


Beacon

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (FINALLY), (it's an antagonist dw), Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Betrayal, Bonding, Coping, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, No mpreg, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Parent Death, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Politics, Smut, Victor Nikiforov Has Abandonment Issues, attempted forced bonding, discussion of abuse, recovering from trauma, setting-appropriate violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 111,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is just a ha-penny a dozen tavern boy, and finds himself the target of the infamous Captain Viktor Nikiforov's affections. (Things do not proceed as expected. On either side.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Past Victor Nikiforov/Original Character, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti, past Katsuki Yuuri/Morooka Hisashi
Comments: 523
Kudos: 452





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [deripmaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deripmaver), Alpha'd by [Rikichie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riki)

* * *

_**November, XX26** _

* * *

“Yuu-chan? Are you ready?” Mari called from the middle of the frozen lake to an anxious boy on the shore. Snow drifted around the two, the air crisp and smelling faintly of evergreen. 

“I don't know about this Mari-nee… I'm afraid.” A hesitant booted foot prodded at the ice. He knew it was frozen through, but there was still something completely terrifying about the idea. “Are you certain it’s safe?” 

“You'll be fine! It's fun. Just watch me!” Yuuri was enraptured as he watched his sister glide across the surface with ease. She looped slow, graceful figure eights, the blades under her feet clacking and scraping gently against the ice. She made it look so easy, but Yuuri still hesitated. His sister slowly glided to him, extending two hands in front of her. 

“Stop being a frightened child and come skate with me!” She called, a devious smile curling at her lips. Yuuri huffed an annoyed breath before taking his sister’s hands in his, allowing her to pull him onto the slippery surface. His legs shook a bit, knees bowing inward. 

“You’re doing great! You haven’t fallen at all yet!” Mari laughed, as if she had been expecting it. Yuuri huffed, sticking out a pink tongue at the insult.

“Mama says I have great balance,” Yuuri returned, “I’m not a baby anymore. I’m almost nine.” He stuck a petulant tongue out at his older sister. 

“Whatever you say, little brother. Are you ready for me to let go?” A rush of confidence surged through him, his lips curling up in a smile. 

“Do it." 

She released his hands, pushing off the edge of one skate to give him space to move on his own. It took a few careful pushes, but Yuuri was already in love. His fear melted into pure, unhindered joy, as he picked up speed across the uneven ice. Laughs from both children echoed off the frozen pond and across the blanket of snow surrounding them. 

“Chase me, Yuuri!” Mari called over her shoulder, setting a speed faster than she knew her brother would be able to maintain. Giggles erupted from both of them, Yuuri’s legs growing more sure and stable beneath him as he skated across the pond. He forgot the sting of the cold against his cheeks, everything replaced with glee in the way that it often did with children. 

“Mari-chan! Koharu-chan is here to see you!” Their mother's gentle voice called the two out of their game of chase. Mari whined, her eyes rolling back. She knew it was her, the neighbor’s alpha daughter. The one her parents had arranged her to marry someday. 

“But Mama! I wanna keep skating with Yuuri!” Even as young as he was, Yuuri knew she was lying. The two were close, and in more than the way Mari was with her other friends. He had seen them holding hands in the garden, both of them smiling, flushed cheeks on full display. 

“Mari, now, please. She’s very excited to see you.” Their mother replied, her tone firm but loving, as always. Nevertheless, Mari crossed her arms and gave in, pushing off to the edge of the pond. “You too, Yuu-chan! Come help Mama with supper please!” 

Yuuri immediately perked up, the prospect of working with his mother in the kitchen much more exciting than the pond. 

“Coming!” He called, carefully making his way to the shore and pulling the leather straps of his skates off his boots. He loved working with food, almost as much as he enjoyed eating it. The siblings trudged back to their small home, the smoke of the chimney drifting lazily into the air. 

Yuuri gladly helped his mother prepare their supper while his father supervised Mari and Koharu in the sitting room, enjoying his pipe and a book, looking to everyone but Hiroko to be completely oblivious to the young couple on the couch. The two were talking quietly, small giggles floating into the kitchen. Mama was humming the lullaby that Yuuri never tired of hearing under her breath while they worked, like a little secret that only the two of them knew. 

_“I know there’s a someone out there  
Waiting for you  
They’ll take you home and  
Dress you up in blue _

_“Your heart will soar on the wings  
Of someone  
Who loves you enough  
To change all of their plans _

_“If you find you’ve lost your way  
You needn’t search  
I’ll be your beacon  
I’ll light your way _

_“To find your shore again  
To find your shore again” _

“Mama, is Haru the person in the song? Is she going to take Mari away?” Yuuri looked up, wonder sparkling in his eyes. They were sitting so close, the smile on Mari’s features so clear… Hiroko kneeled on the floor to meet Yuuri’s eyes with hers, the same deep brown shade. 

“Oh, no, Koharu isn’t the one in the song, Yuu-chan. But they _are_ going to leave someday. They will get married, and become a family of their own. That’s how the world works.” Hiroko tucked a tuft of hair behind Yuuri’s ear, kissing his forehead. “You, your father and I will stay here until you find someone to sweep you off your feet too. You’ll fall in love and move away and want to have a family too. But we will always be right here with you, love. Always.” His Mama laid a work-weathered hand over his heart, a kind smile on her lips. Yuuri wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trembling as he began to cry. 

“But Mama, I don't want to ever leave you! Never, never, never! Not as long as I live!” he cried with the stubbornness he was known for. Her touch was soothing as she rubbed small circles into his back, cooing quietly at him as the two swayed gently back and forth in the kitchen of their small mountain home. 

“It's okay, Yuuri. Everything will be okay. I promise.” Her light voice paired with the soothing blanket of maternal pheromones washed over him, the shaking slowly subsiding, cries devolving into small hiccups. 

“Everything alright?” His father asked, having abandoned chaperone duty for a moment. 

“It's nothing, dear, don’t worry. Yuuri just needed a hug, that's all.” She smiled up at her husband, two pairs of kind eyes meeting. “Don’t let those two get too close without your attention, love.” 

“He takes after his mother.” Toshiya laughed, ruffling Yuuri’s hair gently. 

“Go on, dinner will be ready soon.” His mother replied with a grin, holding Yuuri closer to her chest as his tears faded to shuddering breaths. Hiroko kissed the place between his eyebrows, murmuring a gentle _I love you_ into the skin there, hoping that it would stay forever. That he would find life and love and both abundantly as she had, as they had found for their family together. 

The gods, it would seem, had other plans. 

Yuuri grew lonely after Mari left, she was his only friend in all honesty. She and Koharu had well and truly fallen in love, despite the nature of their arranged mating. Their wedding was modest but wonderful, and Yuuri would never forget the sight of his father, drunk on sweet wine, dancing without a care in the world. 

There was a rumble of concern in the village when Yuuri presented as an omega at sixteen, the realization of another dowry to pay and another wedding to plan weighed heavily on the family as Yuuri’s eighteenth birthday drew closer and closer. Business had begun to dwindle in their small town, famine ravaged nearby villages, drought destroyed crops, and people as well as livestock starved. Mari’s dowry had taken so much of their finances that when it came time to plan Yuuri’s, there was barely anything to offer.

Yuuri had heard every late night discussion between his parents, the frustration radiating from them in waves, assaulting Yuuri’s sensitive nose. He hated that he had presented as an omega, causing so much extra burden on his parents. He had briefly considered simply running, ridding his parents of the expense, freeing them of the responsibility. 

But he couldn’t do it. Of course not.

They had to sell their inn, and despite Yuuri’s protests, they insisted on enforcing the traditional dowry, the tradition of arranging a mate. They were careful in their selection; Morooka-san, a friend of his father, promised that his oldest son would treat Yuuri well, as fit their family’s respected status in the village. 

Despite the promises, despite the efforts of his parents, Morooka Hisashi defied expectation. The man was stern and cold, and in all reality needed a maid, not a mate. Yuuri had uprooted everything for the man, leaving the safety of his hometown for a village three days’ travel from home. Despite every effort to please him, the alpha never bonded to his omega, hiding his cruelty behind some kind of traditionalist lie. 

“It’s the correct way of things,” Hisashi had growled at him on their wedding night, when Yuuri asked him to bond. “Until you prove your worth as a healthy, child-rearing omega, you’re not worth the bite.”

Yuuri survived a year of it, of back-breaking labor tending to Hisashi’s every need; after four brutal cycles of heat and rut without bearing pups, without _proving his worth_ , he finally turned Yuuri away. 

_"What a useless omega. Maybe you’ll find a whorehouse to take you."_

The failure sank like a rock in the pit of his stomach. How could he return to his family after failing in such a way? They had sold the inn for him. They would never forgive him, how could they? What a shameful thing, to return to one’s family empty handed. They had thrown their livelihood away for him. How could he return?

Heartbroken and empty, Yuuri renounced his family name, gathered his belongings and headed west, to the sea. He rode in the backs of wagons, begged for coin to earn passage across kingdoms to reach the sea. Finally he arrived in a small fishing town in time to celebrate his nineteenth birthday, just before the cold of winter settled into his bones. Yuuri had no difficulty finding a tavern in need of a serving boy, and a lithe, even mildly attractive omega like him was difficult to find. A shoddy old place, but nestled amongst the docks where ships of all sizes and origin came to rest their weary oars. The smell of salt in the air never grew old, even a year later. 

He served sailors their mead and their rum, fed hungry men returning from adventure and the poor, thirsty sops leaving the next morning. He had no ill will against his patrons. That was, until he met the crew of the _Stammi Vicino_ and its brutally handsome Captain. 

And Yuuri hated that he was falling in love with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello loves! Welcome to the rebuilt world of Beacon. Stay awhile, kick up your salt-crusted boots, leave your cap at the door. And your weapons... hang on to those. You may never know when you may need them. 
> 
> This is a rewrite, and has been an intensely emotional process so far. Beacon was my first posted fanfic, and the first fanfiction I had ever written. I began writing in 2016, during one of the (then) darkest points of my life. This fic was my escape and safe place, and I poured a lot of myself, my heartache into it. Unfortunately since then, a lot of the original story is 1: not at all up to par to my current standards, and 2: contains a lot of content that now is just too triggering for me to manage. Rewriting this has been (and continues to be) a lot of emotional labor to work through, wading through uncomfy content and traces of collaboration with toxic people. 
> 
> Please bear with me as I keep working, send spare happy thoughts and comments if you can. I love this fic and this story, and I'm committed to telling it. I haven't finished the whole job yet, so I can't promise a regular posting schedule yet, but I will be posting more soon. 
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me, thank you for encouraging me. Love you all, see you soon.  
> <3 ia  
>  [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the notorious Captain Nikiforov.

* * *

_Late November, XX37_

* * *

“Well friends, we’ve made it ashore in one piece, and richer than we were before!” The Captain’s voice boomed, commanding and celebratory. “Well done. Here's to bountiful treasure and beautiful bedmates!” He toasted to his comrades, one foot atop the table, one on the bench. The pub was filled with his crew, leaving standing room only. 

“To Captain Nikiforov!” his second in command barked, and the crew replied with a raucous _‘here, here!’_

They all raised a glass, yelling confirmations and congratulations to their intrepid Captain, the infamous pirate, the notorious scoundrel and thief, Viktor Nikiforov. The rowdy crew of the _Stammi Vicino_ had recently returned from some far-off land, their pockets full to overflowing with pilfered gold and stolen treasure immeasurable. 

Tobias, The Gilded Hull’s owner and proprietor, did nothing to report them while they ported; the compensation the pirates gave him more than enough to pay for his silence, much to Yuuri’s chagrin. The barkeep of the sleepy tavern stretched the gold earned during the week-long stay incredibly thin, pocketing most of it while trying to make the paltry remaining sum last the months between their visits. This usually meant barely paying Yuuri for his work in the intervening months. 

Yuuri was quiet, mostly keeping to himself; he did his work and took his pay, rarely complaining or making a fuss. He wasn't too tall, he wasn't too short. He had ordinary black hair, messy and untameable as a mop, ordinary brown eyes and a forgettable face. He was utterly ordinary, just a ha-penny-a-dozen serving boy. 

But what Yuuri never noticed, and Tobias did, was just how he turned the heads of his patrons. The gentle sway of his wide hips, the quiet _swish_ of his trousers between his plush thighs, soft hands, an easy smile. Yuuri was beautiful, magnetic. He drew the jealous eyes of other omegas; even betas noticed him. Yuuri had become quite accustomed to alphas propositioning him, complimenting him endlessly and pursuing him until Yuuri politely declined. Deep in his core, Yuuri knew that every man who told him those sweet words was lying. That they were only trying to take advantage of an available omega, intrigued by his foreign skin tone and the Eastern accent he still couldn't shake, even when he spoke in the Common Tongue. 

Drink loosened weak men, and Yuuri knew that. 

Tobias gave Yuuri his pay (plus a scant bit on the top) in return for his silence on the occupation of their guests as well. For the discretion of their actions, the Captain tipped Yuuri well and overpaid Tobias for private meals and full access to the tavern while they were at port there. Yuuri detested nothing more than the nights his crew spent under the tavern’s roof. He had only been working for Tobias for a year, but their last visit had been more than enough to prove to Yuuri what kind of men they were. 

They were rude, foul-mouthed and quite handsy. They didn’t take to Yuuri’s soft rejections well, often pursuing despite the omega’s obvious displeasure. Tonight, he feared they could smell the omega pheromones rolling off him, with his heat so dangerously close. They would be shoving off in a few days’ time, which left Yuuri very little wiggle room before his heat was to arrive, maybe a day or two. 

Since leaving Hisashi, his heats had stopped coming regularly, only occurring twice a year. Yuuri assumed it had something to do with the lack of constant alpha contact that shifted his cycle that way, now living with two betas and only being in contact with alphas a few times a day. Regardless, he was grateful to have more control of his body. His heats were messy affairs, full of terrible memories. He shook the thoughts of his heat from his mind. With shaking hands and the hollow mask of a smile on his cheeks, he refilled mead and gathered the remnants of supper from tables. 

Yuuri was good at his job, serving food and drink, washing tables, remaining jovially distant from his patrons. Always gently rejecting their offers to bed him, knowing they were only interested in the omega behind his eyes, beyond his control. They longed for the domesticity of a sweet, demure mate like Yuuri, but he always refused. He would never allow himself to be given to another alpha. 

_Well, maybe the_ right _alpha_ , Yuuri pondered that night, surrounded by rough-looking men, hardened by years of labor at sea. Not any of those men, surely. A real sailor. Someone to teach him to sail, someone to take him on grand adventures, to leave the past behind them... someone to truly love him. Yuuri fought against his nature, his omega desperately clawing at the aborted daydream. 

Yuuri had been successfully ignoring his omega's pull before _he_ swaggered into his life. He made it through his heats on his own, spending three days alleviating the burn in his belly by himself in heathouses. He had gotten good at pushing against his instincts until his heats came and it was unavoidable. Rejecting his desire to mate and be _bred_ like his omega wanted had been easy, second nature. 

But that changed when _that man_ met his eye. That man was a brigand, wanted for crimes on the high seas by most sovereign nations. Viktor Nikiforov was a pirate, but his omega hardly cared for the man’s occupation. It filled Yuuri’s mind with heated dreams, flashes of the two tangled up in flesh, those hands taking him apart slowly, of Yuuri round and full with the man’s pups. Yuuri hated it. He hated the lack of control he had in matters of his own desire. He hated the memories the man drew from the darkest corners of his mind. 

“Oh _mon cher_! Come here, won’t you?” The ship’s second in command shouted from across the room. With three flagons full of mead on a tray balanced on his hip, Yuuri worked his way to the Captain’s table in the back of the tavern. As he moved between tables, one of the crewmen whistled at him. The sailors much rowdier than usual, Yuuri worried it might be in reaction to his pre-heat. His pale skin was flushed pink and he could smell his own pheromones lingering with the salt in the air. 

He could feel the heavy gaze of the Captain following him. His omega purred at the attention, while Yuuri squirmed in protest. 

“ _Mon ange_ , mind topping off my glass? Watching you work so hard makes me very thirsty.” Christophe drawled, blonde curls hanging lazily over deep hazel eyes, beginning to show the haze of drunkenness. Yuuri leaned over the table to fill his mug, his prominent collarbones displayed for the table’s enjoyment. Tobias insisted Yuuri wear the thin, loose-fitting shirts to show off the lean muscle and slim waist beneath it. 

His eyes lingered on Yuuri's chest as he finished the pour, Yuuri swore he saw the briefest glimpse of a flush on his carved cheeks, perhaps imagining the same terrible things that Yuuri was. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, coiling warmly in the pit of his stomach. 

“Mmhmm. Anyone else need anything?” Yuuri asked the table, squirming ever so slightly under the heated gaze of the surly men seated there. 

“Yeah, your sweet ass in bed with me tonight! Lemme show you a real alpha!” One of the sailors shouted at the top of his lungs, slapping Yuuri's rear as he passed. An eruption of riotous laughter tore through the tavern, the redheaded sailor smug and clearly pleased with himself. Yuuri froze at the unwanted contact, his free hand clenched in a tight fist and aching to swing at the man’s nose, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn't bear Tobias’ punishment for such behavior again. 

Among the raucous laughter, one man was silent. The deep, rumbling laugh of the Captain wasn’t among the voices ringing in Yuuri’s ears. Before he registered the movement, the Captain was wrenching the man out of his seat by the collar, a wicked snarl curling his lips back to his ears. 

"I suggest you apologize to the nice boy,” The man’s dark timbre rolling over the words. “And head to the bunkhouse for the night. I think you’ve had enough. _Don’t you?_ ” He growled at the man, his voice dipping into a register Yuuri hadn’t heard from him before. 

The sailor stammered an embarrassed apology, which Yuuri accepted with a stunned smile. The Captain released his shirt, turning to Yuuri. 

“I am incredibly sorry for the rudeness of my crew tonight,” the Captain addressed him directly, a smile returning to his features, melting Yuuri completely. “I hope they haven’t bothered you much. I will not tolerate such behavior from them again,” he turned to the mass of men and bellowed, “Am I clear?” 

“Yes, Captain!” came the enthusiastic response, and the air of the tavern grew thick with silence. Yuuri smiled at the man, nodding a small bow of gratitude and fighting against his omega yet again as it conjured images of the Captain’s strong arms wrapped around him, the musky scent of cedar filling Yuuri’s nose. Pink lips turned upward into that damnably handsome smile, a smile that knew it was handsome. 

_Fuck,_ Yuuri needed some fresh air. 

Turning on his heel, Yuuri ducked behind the bar. His feet carried him through the kitchen door, and out into the cool evening air without looking back. Inhaling the salt air deeply, Yuuri reminded himself how austere his life had been just a year ago. This sleepy seaside town was his new start, even if it meant suffering harassment by a few drunken sailors every now and then. Even if it meant surviving a few days fighting against the urge to fall apart at the behest of a pirate. 

The sea calmed him, the salt cleansed his aching bones, even if only for a minute. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest as he counted his breaths, pushing against the arousal that had been boiling under his skin. A few minutes in the cold pulled the warmth from his fingertips, the peaks of his ears, the tip of his nose, and eased the pounding of his heart and the swollen arousal between his legs. He spent a few moments considering what he would do with his extra coin. Last time he spent it on a new book, the time before on a new pair of trousers. 

“Maybe it’s time to look at replacing these boots…” he murmured, looking down at his old, worn boots and wiggling some warmth back into his toes. 

A hard knock to the middle of his back nearly sent Yuuri stumbling into the frigid bay, but a set of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“Deepest apologies,” The man behind him said, helping him set his feet firmly beneath him again and smoothed the wrinkles he'd made in Yuuri's shirt back. His voice was thick like honey, low and rumbling like distant thunder. 

“It’s quite alright, sir, I shouldn’t have been so close to the edge,” his voice failed him as he turned around, discovering the identity of the man who had nearly pushed him off the dock. The realization came over him in waves of red hot embarrassment, as Captain Nikiforov cast a heavy-lidded gaze down Yuuri’s loose shirt. “Captain! Did you need something?” He asked frantically, suddenly very aware of his being found slacking off. 

It would seem that the Captain had stepped out for a bit of air too, a smoldering cigar held heavy between his thumb and forefinger. Something odd churned in his stomach at the sight, that the Captain had remembered Yuuri gently asking him not to smoke in the tavern during their last visit. The scents of chocolate and mint filled Yuuri's nose and lungs pleasantly, reminding him of Christmas and winter.

It was difficult, in the moment, to separate the man from the pirate. Viktor Nikiforov was devastatingly attractive, his sharp features haloed by silver hair that danced gently on the crisp autumn breeze. The man was something out of Yuuri’s dreams… even the more explicit ones. The Captain was still sporting a slight blush against his porcelain skin, sitting high on defined cheekbones and falling down to the hollow of his throat. Yuuri swallowed thickly at the sight, allowing himself a moment to imagine where else the Captain might flush. 

“Oh, it’s you!” A bright smile burst across his features, doing unnameable things to Yuuri’s heart. “I’m terribly sorry about that wretch Cao Bin, I fear he had a bit too much to drink. I hope you can forgive me for the actions of my crew.” The Captain reached carefully for Yuuri's hand and laid a kiss between his first and second fingers, letting his breath linger on the skin just long enough to raise the hair on Yuuri's arms. 

“You are quite the gem, sweet thing. A glittering diamond in the rough.” he drawled, his words dark and tinged with drink. Yuuri shuddered at the low tone of his voice, those piercing blue eyes burning through every barrier he had learned to construct. 

“I… thank you, Captain,” Yuuri murmured quietly, trying to keep his arousal at bay. “Let’s get you back inside. It’s quite cold out tonight.” 

The Captain sighed softly but nodded, putting out his cigar against the brick wall of the tavern, then wrapped it and tucked into a coat pocket. His compliment rang in Yuuri's ears as he led the Captain back into the pub, the praise warm like spiced wine in his veins. 

As the two approached the door, the Captain leaned over into Yuuri and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His lips were remarkably soft, his breath hot and wet against Yuuri’s skin. The mint and chocolate aroma of his cigars attempted to mask something deeper in the Captain’s scent, something unmistakably _Alphan_. The thought alone stood Yuuri’s nape hair on end, where he would usually simply rebuff the attention from an alpha. But this, this was somehow so much different than just an alpha taking notice of him. 

His breath smelled strongly of rum, but Yuuri's skin tingled with his touch. The Captain leaned down into the soft crook of Yuuri’s neck, nosing at the scent gland under his skin. Yuuri fought (admittedly quite poorly) to maintain his composure while the Captain scented him, pulling deep drags of his scent as if he were smoking his cigar. Yuuri allowed a soft moan to shudder to life between his lips, an answering groan huffed against his throat from the Captain. 

“ _Gods’ mercy_ , you smell divine. Absolutely exquisite. I look forward to seeing you again soon.” He murmured seductively as Yuuri opened the door. 

He perked up again at the sight of his loyal crew, lifting a well-used flask of rum in a toasting gesture. Uproarious laughter and cheering met their beloved Captain as he stepped into the warm light of the hearth. Yuuri knew what the men were cheering to, the implication of their joint absence. Yuuri flushed a bit at the thought, but did not repress the thoughts of an imagined tryst. The Captain looked back at Yuuri, still standing in the doorway. A blue eye winked at him, and his omega preened at the attention. He couldn't fight objective truth, the man was gorgeous, alabaster skin flushed with drink but eyes heavy with intent. 

The Captain’s words hung like a thick haze over him for the rest of the night, pooling in the pit of his stomach like a coiled snake, making for an uncomfortable night in the tavern. His omega was aching for attention, and knew he wouldn't be able to ignore it in his usual way. By the end of the night, Yuuri desperately needed to attend to it after the drunken sailors had disappeared into the bunkhouse of the _Stammi_ for the night. One by one, Yuuri put out the lamps strung through the rafters, bidding Tobias a quiet goodnight as he left for the night, relinquishing his rooms at the tavern to the pirate as part of their agreement. 

Yuuri, holed up in his tiny bedroom above the bar, imagined the Captain whispering sweet nothings into his ears in the throes of his heat. Pressing his sensitive scent gland against the Captain's... his lust-addled mind imagining what the combination of their scents might be. The faint trace of the Captain's musk on Yuuri's shirt wasn't enough. He needed more. 

He didn't dare try to scent the alpha while he slept in the next room, but the thought was incredibly tempting. Phantom hands danced across his chest, his stomach, his cock, his ass. Just the memory of rum-laced breath on his skin was enough to throw Yuuri over the edge, whimpering through an orgasm. His heat would be here soon, and he would have to tend to himself for three torturous days in a heathouse… but at least he would have the events of the night to bring with him to keep him company. 

Yuuri drifted to sleep with the memory of the Captain’s piercing blue eyes, full of the deepest sincerity he had seen in years. Yuuri looked forward to serving the crew of the _Stammi Vicino_ again. 

* * *

The next morning came bursting through Yuuri’s frenzied, pheromone soaked dreams like a cannonball. His hair clung to his forehead, made oily and sweaty with exertion from the night before. It had gotten so long since he had left home; it was now long enough to tie into a tail. It hung just above his collarbones, falling in gentle waves on particularly humid days. 

When the rooster called, it was still dark, but his day always began in the dark. The floors needed to be washed, scrubbed and swept, tables washed, hearth swept, lamps refilled and last night’s dishes cleaned. 

The memories from the night before had Yuuri abuzz with energy, something different than before lingering in his chest. Maybe it was the way the Captain had defended him, perhaps it had been that wink, that smile, hushed words spoken in private… his lips pressed against Yuuri’s skin. All of it made for a compelling reason to lose himself in another round, leaving him wrung out and sated, his omega purring happily as he began his duties.

While the pirate vessel ported in the sleepy seaside town, the Captain swapped his cabin aboard the _Stammi_ to sleep in Tobias’ apartment next to Yuuri's. As Yuuri understood it, he enjoyed having a bit of peace on dry ground and never complained that Yuuri cooked for him in the mornings. He wouldn’t be in want of his breakfast at least until sunup, especially given his drunkenness the night before, so Yuuri knew he had a few hours to complete his chores. 

After a _very_ chilly run to the well, Yuuri washed his face, tugged his hair into a tail, tied his apron around his waist and made his way back into the main hall to begin his day scrubbing the floors. 

Yuuri always ended the scrubbing in the area needing the most attention, under the table where the Captain and the elite of his crew spent their nights. It was always sticky and smelled like mead and rum, mixed with old boots and salt. A truly abhorrent combination, but scrub he must. His knees ached from the hour he’d already spent scrubbing, his lithe forearms beginning to ache with the repetitive motion. 

Ducking his head under the heavy table, Yuuri set about the work of removing the boot scum from the floor. The dark, chocolate smell of the pirate’s cigars still lingered in the air around the seat he had graced last night, the memory of the night before set his fingertips alight, buzzing with excitement. The Captain’s scent grew heavier and thicker under the wooden table, so thick that Yuuri felt as if he was swimming in it. 

Under the table rested a small square of rumpled fabric, soft white cotton with silver embroidery around the edges. _His_ initials, in a dancing, silvery script, confirmed Yuuri’s suspicions. 

**VN**

This was his. It smelled so strongly of him that Yuuri barely contained a needling whine, but did not hold back in immediately pressing the hankie to his nose, breathing in the spiced musk of the alpha; thick scents of cedar and sea salt swirled in his head, bending and twisting as _Alpha_ flooded his system. He adored the way his own light cherry scent mingled with the Captain’s cigars and his heady musk. Something about the intertwining pulled at his omega, leaving Yuuri yearning for the alpha that had left the scent behind. 

When he finally tore the fabric away from his nose, the artistry of it captured him wholly. The silvery accents caught the dancing lamplight in a captivating way, drawing Yuuri’s eye to inspect it further. Adjacent from his elegantly curling monogram, was the image of a beacon, sewn in small, silver lines. Delicate rays of artificial torchlight radiated from the image, contrasting the crashing waves sewn at the base of the lighthouse. It was beautiful. 

He took one last deep breath of the thick scent, before gently folding it and placing it in the front pocket of his apron. In any other world, (specifically, one where Yuuri was not just a tavern boy, and the Captain wasn’t… well, a pirate), this might have constituted a mating proposal, but Yuuri knew that it was obviously a mistake. He had probably just dropped it the night before. He would return it to the Captain when he woke. . Realizing he’d spent far too much time under the table, he finished scrubbing the floors and carefully made his way across the slick wood to the bar counter. 

Dropping rags on the ground, Yuuri stood on them with his bare feet, soaking up water while he danced across the floor in the early morning light. Tobias wouldn't arrive until noontime, and the Captain was sleeping off his hangover-- so Yuuri was truly alone, if only for a few hours. When he danced this way, he was no longer just the serving boy. He was unbridled by consequence. He could forget his past, the aches that lurked in his shadowy memory. He was his own. 

His bare feet skated their way between and amongst the tables, spinning Yuuri dizzy in the meantime. Silent music filled his ears as he danced alone in the pale sunrise- pink light streaming through the foggy windows. Gulls cawed and old wooden galleons creaked a melody so sweet that he lost himself in their song. Iron bells rang distantly with the gentle lapping of the harbor’s waves. His dirty white shirt and torn trousers transformed into a stately suit, cast in the midnight blue, the near black of night. Tiny silver moons as buttons and comet tails as regal epaulettes draped across his shoulders. 

A memory stirred in the distant recesses of his mind: skating across the frozen pond with his sister behind their small home. He remembered the freedom and the solace the ice once brought him. He could hear his Mama's soft humming, the lullaby she always sang for him. The melody danced across his lips quietly, fully encasing him in the little world he’d constructed. An imagined partner wrapped a phantom arm around his waist, taking Yuuri’s hand in his… broad shoulders wrapped in a mirrored version of Yuuri’s suit, cast in complementary shades of pink and purple. A familiar rumbling laugh echoed in his mind, a familiar pair of blue eyes met his in the imagined dance. The scent of him filled Yuuri’s nose, he felt his cheeks growing warm. 

“Beautiful,” the Captain breathed from above him, the compliment so quiet and yet so rattling Yuuri nearly tumbled to the floor. Every ounce of blood in his body rushed to his face in embarrassment. Yuuri would not have minded if he were to die in that very moment. That would have been the more pleasant alternative to surviving the shame. 

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry you saw that, I… let me fix you some breakfast.” Yuuri stammered as he finished his mopping and picked up the rags. 

“Sorry to startle you,” the Captain apologized, “The way your body moves… it’s…” he trailed off, seeming to change his mind halfway through and he continued to descend the stairs into the main hall. “Breakfast. Yes, breakfast would be lovely.” Yuuri’s cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment as he made for the kitchen. 

“Are eggs and potatoes alright, Captain?” Yuuri called from behind the counter, forcing himself to fall back into place as he lit the fire. 

“That would be perfect,” came his soft reply from directly behind the young man. “And please, call me Viktor. I’m sure your lips would do the name justice.” His voice suddenly flowing directly into Yuuri’s ear, so quiet and dark he could barely hear. “What’s your name?” His words dripped with sex - deep and luscious as honey. Never before had the Captain paid Yuuri so much attention. There was usually another omega seated on his lap during his stays at The Gilded Hull. The rumbling baritone of his Northern-accented Common Tongue made the fine hair on Yuuri's arms stand on end. 

Turning to face him, Yuuri blushed furiously at the direct eye contact with the Captain, who looked like he might devour him in one bite. “My name’s Yuuri, Capt-, _Viktor_. But they usually just call me ‘boy’.” The foreign name fell off his tongue strangely; his tongue struggling with the harsh R at the end, softening it to a quiet -ru instead. He does his best to bow in the western style, but he'd never really been taught how. He only really knew the traditional eastern bow, stiff-backed and at the waist. 

“Yuuri,” the Captain murmured, rolling the name around on his tongue like fine wine. The Northern accent transformed his name into molten metal, smooth and flawless. “Absolutely lovely.” The pirate cupped Yuuri’s chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. His eyes melted Yuuri into a puddle, his touch lit a fire in his belly. 

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the intensity of Viktor’s gaze churning something deep in his omega. “Thank you, Viktor,” he managed after a moment, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, now mysteriously dry. 

Yuuri almost didn’t register the movement, Viktor rounding the counter, bringing himself even closer to Yuuri. His legs were shaking ever so slightly, need beginning to coil tightly in his core as Viktor’s opposite hand rested on the swell of Yuuri’s hip. Yuuri struggled to bite back a moan at the closeness, the warmth of Viktor’s hands on him, how easily he could move into a kiss… 

“Yuuri, I believe you have something of mine.” Viktor breathed, lower than a whisper, something more akin to a growl. 

“I… I do,” Yuuri answered, amazed at just how breathy his voice had become. “I was going to return it to you when you woke up,” Yuuri began, a sharp gasp interrupting his explanation as Viktor’s hand moved from his hip. 

Viktor moved slowly, his hand diving into the front pocket of his apron. Yuuri thought he might combust as he felt the back of Viktor’s hand brush against the throbbing heat between his legs to grab the handkerchief, holding his chin to keep the smoldering eye contact. 

When he withdrew the fabric he took a deep inhale, nose pressed gently to the fabric. Yuuri felt light headed, the sight of Viktor so shamelessly scenting something that had been in Yuuri’s possession, so near his groin, so saturated with Yuuri’s own olfactory brand… it had him gasping. 

“You smell delicious, Yuuri.” Viktor rumbled, elongating the _uu_ of his name, rolling it on his tongue like fine wine to be savored. Viktor finally released Yuuri from his gaze, where he had held him for what felt like an eternity. He bit his lip against the urge to whine at the loss of Viktor’s hands, but a few shaky breaths later, he returned to making breakfast over the fire. 

He cracked two fresh eggs into the skillet, dropping in diced potatoes as well. The smell was heavenly, and Yuuri grit his teeth to avoid drooling over the food. He’d never been afforded such a luxurious breakfast. He dished the meal onto a plate and set it before the Captain, who had taken a seat at the small table in the kitchen. at the small table in the kitchen. The man ate with such a fervor, it seemed like he had never eaten before in his life. Yuuri moved around the kitchen, tidying while the Captain ate his breakfast, attempting to quell the embers glowing in his belly. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor asked after a few moments, “Aren’t you going to have something to eat?”

Yuuri very rarely made himself breakfast, knowing Tobias would likely strike the cost of it from his pay. He shook his head firmly. “Oh no, not until lunch.”

The alpha stared at him as if he had spoken his mother tongue. “Nonsense. You need to have _something._ ” Yuuri flushed as the Captain pulled a heavy gold coin from his purse and slid it across the counter with a wink. “That old miser will never know. Besides. Your cooking is far too wonderful to not indulge in yourself.”

After a moment of hesitation, Yuuri gave in, feeling a pleasant flutter in his core as he cracked an egg of his own over the skillet. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Viktor’s eyes on him, even as he continued about his chores, opening the tavern for the day.

Around midday, patrons quickly filled the tables and lunch was served. The tender ache at the meeting of Yuuri’s thighs did not subside; every time he looked to the corner, Viktor sat, watching the omega’s every move. There was something different about his gaze as the day stretched on, something cool, guarded about it. Perhaps he had seen past some kind of facade. Perhaps there was more to the Captain than he thought. 

* * *

Viktor would happily spend the rest of his life watching Yuuri work. It was mesmerizing. Quick, soft footfalls carried him effortlessly between tables, strong, tanned arms hoisting trays of dirty dishes over his head and balanced on a wide hip. His body moved as if it was making music, when he danced across the floor that morning, easily weaving around tables… he was undeniably, completely smitten. 

Hours into the afternoon, Christophe finally joined him, having slept off his hangover long enough. “Still watching him?” Chris huffed a strained laugh, his head still pounding from the celebrations the night before. 

“Of course, Chris. I can’t look away.” Viktor breathed, his chest seizing as he watched Yuuri lean over the counter to call out an order. _Good gods,_ his ass was perfect. 

“How did it go?”

“It went… _well,”_ Viktor replied, guarded. It was far better than that, he had been so close to him… gods, what he wouldn’t have done to kiss Yuuri then. “Thank you for the recommendation, you meddler.” Viktor jibed, masking his gratefulness for the suggestion. He had been able to touch him again, after their encounter on the docks had left him so struck by him. 

Yuuri was so sweet, so soft, but strong, resilient. Viktor knew it might be a lost effort, Yuuri was so withdrawn and distant as it was. He knew he would have to gain his trust slowly, the thought of wooing someone so earnestly had the romantic in him vibrating eagerly. After so long, he might finally have found a worthy pursuit. Gods knew he had been fighting the character he’d made of himself after all those years. He carried the air of the haughty bachelor in his everyday dealings, the persona of ‘Captain’ demanded respect. Viktor found himself wearing a mask, the coolly distant, unaffected, disinterested capital-a _Alpha_. He hated it. 

“Viktor, have you noticed the way that weasel watches him? He’s looking at him like he’s appraising a horse.” He hadn’t realized it, but it was true. The barkeep was scanning Yuuri up and down, his eyes gleaming in a way that made Viktor’s skin crawl. 

“You don’t think… he’ll try _that,_ do you?” Viktor whispered in horror. 

“I don’t know, Captain. But your chance with him might be coming sooner than you thought.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes my personal brand of fic is fast burn
> 
> (you can read the next chapter early if you follow the link to twitter and check out my pinned tweet!)
> 
> <3 ia


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a deal is struck, dynamics shift.

Noontime came and went, and all except for Viktor and Christophe had filtered out of the tavern, the two still sitting in the corner, passing a flask of rum back and forth between them. (Respectable pirates only drink after noon, so Yuuri had been informed.) A game of cards Yuuri had never seen before captured most of the pair’s attention, but Yuuri still caught glances of those blue eyes following him. 

The Captain’s carefully braided silver hair perfectly framed his arching eyebrows and ocean eyes, deep enough to drown in. The thick rope of hair fell over his right shoulder tied with a leather thong, dyed the same regal purple as his shirt. His coat collar turned up around his cheeks, black as midnight. His shirt lay untied, showing teasing glances of his well-toned chest beneath. 

The man had quite an affinity for black leather - wearing it head to toe, except for his deep purple embroidered shirt and a heavy golden chain around his neck. A skull and crossbones with sapphire eyes lay at the end of the chain, in case anyone doubted the kind of man he was and what kind of business he conducted. Rings of different metals and varying colored stones decorated his fingers… his long, slender fingers. Yuuri shuddered at the memory of those hands touching him. 

Five gold hoops lined the curve of his left ear, and if the rumors were true, each one was a prize the pirate had claimed from a defeated rival, and from what Yuuri knew of the life of pirates, defeat meant death.

In the blurred edge of Yuuri’s periphery, he noted that the pair had been joined by Tobias, his employer nursing a mug of mead. Viktor’s expression was unreadable, cool and unaffected; Tobias’ back was turned to Yuuri, so their conversation was entirely impossible to decipher. Their words were too low to overhear, but maybe that was for the best. Yuuri’s manners had taught him better than to eavesdrop on what was certainly a discussion of payment for their stay. Tobias didn’t linger at their table for long, and as Yuuri passed the three to collect an empty mug from a neighboring table, he heard what sounded vaguely like ‘ _discuss this later_ ’, as a heavy gold coin landed metallically on the table. 

Something about that didn't sit well in his stomach. He wasn't sure, but at every pass, he could hear a low growl rumbling from the Captain. As Yuuri moved table to table picking up empty mugs and bowls, those blue eyes were trained on him, an empty glass in his hand. He raised it gently, calling Yuuri’s name from across the room.

“Yuuri! More mead please!” A lingering sweetness drifted in the pause between his words, intention thick on that _please_. Yuuri’s heart fluttered, a fresh flash of arousal blooming in his core. A foul odor began to drift through the dining hall, something similar to the anger that had burned its memory into Yuuri’s nose.

“Just a moment, Captain!” Yuuri eased into his cheery persona, the warm smile on his lips as artificial as Tobias’ gold tooth.

When he returned to the Captain’s table with two mugs of mead for the table, the pair thanked Yuuri and Viktor watched carefully as he set the mug in front of him. In the split second it took to set it down, Viktor had Yuuri’s wrist pinned in the strong grip of his right hand— Viktor’s long fingers wrapped around his wrist completely. Yuuri’s anxiety flared as Viktor held him firm, trapping him bent over the table, exposing even more of his chest than normal. Viktor’s smoldering gaze relit the fire in Yuuri’s core, and he was equally aroused and terrified. 

It hit him almost instantly, the heavy smell of pre-rut, tinted with anger. The terror was evident in Yuuri's eyes, but his inner omega begged, screamed for more of the alpha's touch. His eyes darted to the first mate, who was just as shocked as Yuuri.

“Listen, please,” Viktor whispered quietly, “That worm you work for has offered to sell you to me. Do not continue your employment with this rat of a man. Pack your things and I will escort you away from here tonight.”

Yuuri couldn’t bring words to form and come out of his mouth. Tobias had always been tolerable. Stingy, yes. Uninterested in the general wellbeing of his staff, also yes. But he had seemed, at the very least, not willing to sell him off like cattle to a stranger. Yuuri’s vision was swimming and he fought to keep himself from becoming sick all over the clean floors. Not to mention the scent rolling off Viktor in waves filling his nose and raising the fine hair on the back of his neck. 

The situation was alarmingly similar to the last time he'd been arranged to be given to a virtual stranger, setting off the angry peal of an alarm bell in his mind. Every nightmare that he had suffered at Hisashi’s hand resurfaced, making his heart pound in his chest.

“Viktor, I… ” Yuuri finally brought himself to say, choking on his own tears, attempting to keep his voice low. His mouth had gone dry, the mere act of breathing suddenly laborious.

“Please,” The Captain interrupted, crooning a soft reassurance in his first language. “I can’t bear to think of what horrors you would endure in another Captain’s quarters. Come with me, Yuuri. Believe in me.” His eyes were full of sincerity and hinted at something like anger. He shifted his gaze to Christophe, who nodded, confirming that the Captain wasn’t lying. 

As sickened as he was by the thought of it, being bought and sold like livestock, Yuuri found himself trusting them.

The rest of the night was difficult to endure. It may have been paranoia, but Yuuri could swear he felt Tobias watching, weighing his price. The Captain had assured Yuuri that everything would be alright, that there was no need for tears. He had asked Viktor if he could hold his hankie again, to carry the calming smell with him. The alpha gladly agreed, brushing the fabric against the scent gland in his throat. Yuuri inhaled deeply against the fabric, the calm washing over him like the warm summer sun. 

Viktor explained his plan to Yuuri, that he would pay Tobias what he asked and the two would set out to sea. He agreed to teach Yuuri how to sail, to navigate, to become one of the crew.

“As much as I’d love to simply take you aboard as a passenger…” Viktor said, his lips tugging into a taut line. Yuuri could read between those words rather easily. “With a recently re-enlisted crew, it’s… _volatile_. You’ll have to work.”

Yuuri nodded, understanding. “I can cook,” Yuuri offered, “And clean, whatever you need me to do.” He hoped his sincerity was enough to convince him, faced with the possibility of a life worse than what he had with Hisashi.

“This is beginning to sound like a better deal for me than for you, Yuuri.” Viktor laughed softly, “I get to eat your delicious food and see you more than once a year.” Yuuri flushed, trying to hide his excitement. 

Christophe too, was kind and gentle, offering him sympathetic looks from across the tavern. He promised Yuuri that everything would be okay, that things were under control, that he looked forward to sailing with him, and was excited to teach Yuuri everything he knew once they set off. He apologized gently that he would have to leave the tavern when it was time for negotiations, but that he would be waiting on deck for him afterward. Viktor assured him in the same way. 

Viktor gladly released clouds of calming scent when Yuuri lingered at their table, reminding him to breathe deeply to calm the panic that was rising to the surface.

“I really like your scent, Viktor.” Yuuri admitted softly, Christophe feigning offense that Yuuri hadn’t said it to him. “I’m sorry! Yours is just… it’s very sweet.”

“You’re the first to complain about it, _mon ami_. I’ll never recover.” Christophe sighed dramatically, earning a soft kick in the boot from Viktor. 

“Ignore him.” Viktor laughed gently, turning his eyes back to Yuuri. “Gods know I do.” He added with a wink, the smile Yuuri had seen that morning lingering on his lips. Yuuri liked that smile, the way it reached his eyes, making the blue-green sparkle in the lamplight. Yuuri allowed a small laugh to fall from his lips, taking another deep breath of Viktor’s scent and returning to the kitchen.

“I’ll never forgive you if you hurt him, Vitya.” Christophe warned after Yuuri was out of earshot. 

“I wouldn’t forgive me either.”

After supper freed up space in the back of the tavern, Tobias invited Viktor to a more private table at the back of the tavern. Negotiations were about to begin.

“Boy!” Tobias’ angry voice snapped, demanding Yuuri’s attention, his stomach plummeting to his feet. He scrambled from his seat behind the bar, walking with his head down toward the two men. “My boots need polishing.”

 _Oh_.

He intended to force Yuuri to listen. He might have been able to avoid listening to the conversation if he could work and stay busy. Or curl into a tight ball in the kitchen with Viktor’s scent pressed to his nose. But no. Tobias intended to twist the knife.

“Yes, sir.” Yuuri replied as politely as he could muster, breath hitching between words. He fetched the polish from behind the bar, returning to the table tucked away in the back of the main hall. Tobias had turned in his seat, no longer facing the Captain, but gazing past him dismissively, trying to seize the upper hand in the degrading display of power. But Yuuri saw the man for who he was, no more than a flea standing against a hurricane. 

Yuuri kneeled on the floor in front of the man, holding out his hands to say he was ready. A dirty boot landed in Yuuri’s freshly washed hands, smelling like shit and salt. Yuuri forced himself to look down, knowing his role in the drama that was about to unfold. He was a prize to be bargained for, the demure omega servant… an amenity. He coughed at the smell of the boot, threatening the reappearance of his supper. Tobias nudged Yuuri’s shoulder with the toe of his boot, smearing dirt into the white fabric of his shirt. 

He fought back tears as he was forced to listen to their discussion, negotiations bouncing prices around as if it was nothing. Like he was nothing. Just two men haggling in the market. Viktor’s lips were pulled into a haughty smile, the dismissive, disinterested tone of his voice chilling Yuuri to his core. He could smell it though, even if Tobias couldn’t. A hot, oppressive anger radiated from Viktor, thick and compelling, especially here, knelt at his feet.

“E's young and spry, strong too. I know for a fact the boy's an omega.” Tobias remarked, as easily as one might discuss the cost of a dozen eggs.

“Yes, but he’s been…” the Captain cleared his throat, something angry flaring in his scent, “ _Tarnished_ , I presume?” Yuuri bit his lip against such a degrading term. It stung, hearing it from the Captain’s mouth, even if he knew the reality of the conversation.

“That matters little at his age. Can't be much older’n twenty. Still fresh, and I’m sure, ripe for your picking.” Yuuri shuddered at the comparison. No better than last week's fruit or day-old bread. “He _was_ mated for only a year, and his alpha battered him good, from what I’ve heard. Couldn’t get pregnant, though, husband got mad. Poor boy couldn’t even bond.”

Something sharp caught in Yuuri's throat. Yuuri had never told a soul that, only sharing the story with their last cook, before she found her wife. Old memories rolled in his stomach the way it had on those wretched wagons, sour and acidic. For every cycle he didn’t produce pups, Hisashi’s anger would flare; he held the possibility of a bond over his head as a reward for pregnancy, for _proving his worth_. He could still feel hands around his throat.

The scent of anger emanating from Viktor was so thick Yuuri felt like he might choke on it. “I’ll give you sixty gold for the boy.” Viktor bit out.

“I wouldn’t take any less than seventy-five. He’s a hard worker, this one. Might fetch a better price from the next crew to port here…”

“On top of what you're already charging me to rent your loft? Preposterous. You can't seriously be asking that much for a possibly infertile omega, much less a previously mated and subsequently abandoned omega. I'll do sixty-five with our previously settled-upon amount for rent and that's the only offer I'll make.” Yuuri fought against the heave of his stomach.

“Seventy.”

The only sound from the table was the gentle scrubbing of bristles against leather as Yuuri worked the polish into Tobias’ left boot.

“Alright, you old tightwad, Seventy gold it is."

“Aye, you’ve got a deal.”

Thus, the deal was struck; Yuuri was worth barely more than a good pair of boots. A shake of hands and smiles were exchanged, the two men toasted to their deal. Viktor dropped a small velvet bag into Tobias’s hand, the pieces clinking together as they fell.

“To good business.” Tobias said.

“Aye.” Viktor replied, setting his mug of mead on the table, looking down to the floor to meet Yuuri’s caramel eyes, now unable to stop the flow of tears. He finished polishing, wiping off excess compound, stood from the kneeling posture and ascended the stairs up into the loft.

“Oh? Not going to do your new master’s boots as well, boy?” Tobias guffawed, the heavy implication on that word causing Yuuri to trip over his own foot, and Viktor to choke on his mead. Both of them reviled the statement. Yuuri froze, as if waiting for a command from the Captain. He knew he had to play the part, regardless of how much he had already been degraded that night. He at least knew Viktor’s intentions. That was the single point of light on the darkened horizon.

“Go on, Yuuri. Pack your things.” came the soft directive. Yuuri was eternally grateful that Viktor hadn’t asked him to polish his boots as well. He would have done it, but not in front of Tobias. There was something so… _arousing_ in the idea of kneeling in front of the man, in performing such a submissive posture… but Yuuri packed that thought away for later. 

Yuuri gathered his things, packing them into his small knapsack. His second shirt and trousers, his apron, a few gold coins he’d squirrelled away in the hay mattress, and the kerchief that Okaasan had made him before he left home. It was all he had.

“Boy! More mead!” howled Tobias, who was undoubtedly scheming up how to spend his newly acquired gold. Maybe he’d purchase a new omega to serve in Yuuri’s place.

“Ah, but, he’s mine now,” the Captain interrupted, a haughty smile quickly fading to a sneer, “you may damn well get your own mead.” he barked at Tobias, baring his teeth as he climbed the stairs behind Yuuri. Possessive pheromones rolled off Viktor in waves, calming Yuuri’s omega. Something about the way he had growled ‘mine’ encouraged a small trickle of slick from the boy.

“Are you ready, Yuuri?” He asked, his voice edging on impatience. “The Stammi Vicino shoves off soon. I want to get you settled immediately.”

“Yes, Captain. I’m ready.” Yuuri grabbed his pack and swung it over his shoulder.

“Is this all you have?” He asked, the disbelief clear on his features. Yuuri felt _seen_ , pinned down by the concern in the Captain’s eyes. “He sleeps on a cloud and you… he gave you _this_?” Viktor gestured to the straw-stuffed mattress, threadbare dressings barely suitable for an indentured servant, let alone an employee. 

“ _Yes_.” Yuuri murmured in his native tongue, the impulse to withdraw begging him to make himself smaller, to make himself less of an inconvenience. Viktor’s eyes went wide before Yuuri realized his error and immediately corrected with “I mean, yes, Captain. Pardon me.”

“What was that? Eastern Islander?” Viktor asked, curiosity and interest swimming in those ocean eyes.

“Yes, Captain. I'm from a small village called Hasetsu.” Yuuri answered, his hackles raised instinctively, his body prepared for the retaliation he had come to expect. His face flushed red as he scrambled to explain himself, “Pardon me, I— Tobias… he doesn’t like when I speak of my homeland.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Viktor replied, smiling softly as he leaned against an upright support. “I’d love to hear more about it.”

“Thank you, Viktor. I don’t know what I would do without you… if someone else had come before-”

“Let’s save the ‘thank yous’ for when we board sweet one,” the Captain interrupted, curling his finger toward himself and turning heel to leave. “I want you safe, and away from him.”

A warmth Yuuri hadn't felt in years began crawling into his fingertips. It wasn't the flushed, lusty heat he'd been suffering the past few days; it was something more. A fondness. Maybe in other circumstances it would be considered affection. Captain Viktor Nikiforov was a shimmering beacon. A single point of light and hope in the distant black of night. 

His black leather boots clicked at a blistering pace in front of Yuuri, the old docks swaying gently beneath their feet. The smell of salt in the air was a promise of new beginnings and Yuuri could barely suppress a smile in the dark. Even in the near pitch-black of midnight, the Stammi Vicino was intimidating. Her masts were taller than trees, the rolled-up black sails thicker around than tree trunks. Her deck creaked with age and use, but she was still a sight to behold. Yuuri looked forward to seeing her in the early morning sunlight from the deck, instead of gazing out through old foggy windows at the tavern, fantasizing about this very moment. Granted, not necessarily becoming part of a pirate’s crew, but the moment was thrilling nonetheless.

“Let me show you to your quarters. Follow me, if you would.” The Captain’s sweet baritone cut through Yuuri’s reverie with a new, commanding tone that Yuuri had only heard once before, when he scolded that alpha for harassing him. It would seem the Captain gained more confidence aboard the ship than his already pretentious facade allowed for on land. 

Yuuri felt hungry eyes on him as they strode across the deck, including the slimy stare of the crewman who had slapped his ass just yesterday; he knew better than to assume that his crew respected him, the turnover of any pirate crew was as inevitable as the tides. Yuuri guessed that it wasn’t the first time Viktor had taken a partner below deck. Yuuri scanned the crowd of men for Christophe’s face, finding it in the same moment that Viktor pulled open the door below deck.

“Please, Yuuri. Come along now.” Viktor's expression was unreadable, eyes cold and unwavering as he pulled him away from Chris. Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, seeing the brief flash of worry cross the first mate’s face. “You can see him in the morning.”

A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine at the dominance in his voice, the tone edging on an alpha command that would force Yuuri into subservience. The thought raised bile in the back of his throat, remembering all the times Hisashi had used it on him in that past life. Yuuri clapped his mouth shut, nodding sharply at Christophe as they passed. 

He nearly had to jog to keep up with Viktor as they descended deeper and deeper into the ship’s belly, passing the sailor’s bunkhouses and a communal head, until they finally arrived at the galley and what must have at one point been servants’ quarters. 

As they walked through the vast mess hall and into the small kitchen space, Yuuri was introduced to a mountain of a man named Cookie, aptly employed as the ship’s cook. His arms were covered entirely in tattoos and both ears were lined with small hoops and one fishing hook in the right lobe, but his smile was the most genuine Yuuri had seen in his life. For a short moment Yuuri was able to forget about the circumstances as he was introduced to the ship’s cook and the livestock on board, a chicken and a goat. 

“We’ll get properly acquainted in the morning.” Yuuri said with a smile as he bid Cookie a goodbye, eager to start the new day with a new friend, even if the situation was… messy. They continued down the narrow hall and Viktor stopped before the last door. It was very old, supported by wrought iron beams and a very heavy knob. 

The repeating chorus of thoughts in Yuuri’s mind begged him to stay afloat; his stubbornness refused to allow the panic looming over him to settle in. Viktor’s scent was muddled and difficult to discern. Yuuri had become accustomed to weighing customers’ moods by scent, but Viktor’s was a complete mystery, somehow guarded and secretive. It was unsettling, like a cold drop of rain dripping down one’s spine.

The Captain pulled a key from his pocket and slotted it into the door, turned the knob and as it opened, the hinges creaked as though the entirety of the ocean weighed upon them. Yuuri passed through the door and his heart fell to his feet. A small room with a hammock and a bucket. Nothing more.

“Here's where you'll be staying.” the Captain said, his voice distant and empty, hollow of the tenderness from earlier in the night. “You're to begin your duties at dawn. You will assist in the galley with meals and you will attend to anything that Christophe or myself request. Am I clear?”

Yuuri could barely choke out a response. “V-Viktor…” he finally replied, voice cracking over his name. It was worse than he had been expecting. What had he been expecting? That the Captain would sweep him off his feet? That he would fall in love with him and they would sail off into the sunset together? He had hoped… that perhaps he was different. What a foolish hope. He would never love Yuuri.

Yuuri couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes and sank to his knees, clutching his stomach, trying to stop the shaking. The cold sank into his fingers and toes, bleeding the excess warmth his preheat had been providing him. 

“You will address me as _Captain_." Viktor replied impassively, his eyes distant. Yuuri felt his own words choking him, drowning in the tears not yet shed. "Do you understand, Yuuri?"

“Yes, Captain.” Yuuri said, voice broken and shaking as he locked his gaze on the man, pushing every ounce of this betrayal into his eyes. Every iota of his shattered hopes, dashed on the rocks like driftwood. In reply, Viktor’s blue eyes were cold and empty. Those ocean eyes no longer held any warmth or concern, no more affection or longing. Instead, there was nothing, and Yuuri couldn’t help but ache at the unexplained loss.

“Cookie will show you how I like my breakfast, I expect to see you at daybreak.” Viktor said, his voice tight and restrained, businesslike. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

Yuuri could barely muster the strength to return the platitude, the mere gesture of it tasted like ashes in his mouth. “Goodnight, Captain.” Yuuri finally replied, his voice small and shaken. He heard the door close and the lock click metallically behind him, and Viktor's footsteps carried down the hall and back up the ladder. Yuuri's mind began racing. Spiraling downward and inward, drawing his breath in faster and faster until he was dizzy, his chest was aching with the strain of simply breathing. 

Viktor lied. He didn't care about him. He wasn't special. He was just another omega. 

_How stupid to think you might be different. You were broken then, and you're broken now._ That voice filled his ears, sending his mind careening over the edge. His vision swam with tears and his mind spun with the weight of it all.

He knew it then. The beacon had been a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me lol
> 
> life is a little crazy at the moment, Mr IA and I are moving and things are a bit scattered. Thank you for bearing with me <3 (if you want to read the next chapter, follow the link to my twitter and read the pinned tweet!)
> 
> -ia


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri tries to find a new normal, Viktor realizes he's in deep shit.

Yuuri barely slept; the night spent equally in shallow sleep and in tears. Nightmares plagued the little sleep he had, visions of spending his heat rolling in the waves below deck, or worse, being found and used by faceless crew members for entertainment, bought and sold for gold. He woke with a startled yelp when the Captain visited his dreams, those empty eyes glared down at him, cornering him in his tiny room. 

From there on out, all of his nightmares featured the Captain. The honeyed voice that he remembered from the night in the tavern, the light kiss between his fingers and smoldering on his cheek. The dreams brewed a terrifying combination of fear and arousal, and with his heat approaching, the dreams caused a bit of another problem. Stifling his tears long enough to ease the tension between his legs proved to be difficult, ending in a choked, whimpered orgasm.

In the hazy afterglow, Yuuri realized he had no plan to ride out his heat. They would be shoving off in a day or two, and there was no way the old galleon was equipped with a safer space than this for him to nest for three days. 

The shaking came first. His breaths came too fast, heart pounding in his chest, rattling in his ribcage. Wracked with ugly sobs, Yuuri resigned to being trapped below deck in this cell. The old boards of the ship creaked in unison with his shuddering breaths, and slowly lulled him back to sleep, blessedly dreamless.

Yuuri awoke what felt like only a moment later to a thunderous pounding and Cookie’s voice booming through the small hatch in the door. 

“Rise an’ shine, Yuuri! ‘S breakfast time!”

He was accustomed to a much quieter morning alarm, but regardless, he could scarcely bring himself to climb out of his hammock. His neck ached from the poor position in which he had fallen asleep, curled around his knees, trying to keep his chest from collapsing. Cookie unlocked the door with a heavy, metallic clinking that made Yuuri heave.

“G’mornin’ Yuuri. Lemme show ya how t’ make Cap’n’s breakfast. It’s real easy.” Cookie chirped happily as the door swung open. He outstretched his hand and the kindness of his gesture nearly made Yuuri weep. Cookie pulled him into an embrace that only lasted a second, but it helped to fill the empty space that had taken residence in his heart. The brush of another person’s flesh was almost too much against his sensitive skin, another sign of impending disaster. 

“Alrigh’, darlin’. Let’s get cookin’.” Cookie laughed his big, booming laugh, and Yuuri couldn’t fight back a smile as he tied on his apron, feeling some semblance of normalcy of working in a kitchen.

Cookie showed him how to light the cooking stove to make Captain his eggs and bacon. Thankfully Yuuri was already familiar with the eggs portion, but the bacon was an entirely new experience. Bacon was a specialty only afforded while they were docked, as the small galley did not have a means to store raw meat. The Captain was the only person aboard given the luxury of the meat, and he was probably the only person aboard who had ever tasted it. The smell alone was tantalising.

“Ya ever had bacon?” Cookie asked, smirking as he noticed Yuuri nearly salivating over the fatty meat.

“No, Cookie, I’ve never had the pleasure.” Yuuri admitted, swallowing thickly at the smell of it. Before working at the Gilded Hull, Yuuri had only prepared and eaten Eastern-styled foods, his mother’s pork cutlets and rice utterly to die for.

“Cap’n don’t mind me havin’ a piece sometimes. Here.” He outstretched his hand, the smallest strip, dried and cooled. “I won’ tell if you don’.” he added with a wink.

“Thank you, Cookie.” Yuuri said, graciously accepting the gift, knowing full well that he would have to cherish small moments of kindness moving forward, as such things might be few and far between.

When the Captain’s breakfast was finished, Cookie showed Yuuri how to plate and cover it to retain its heat during the trip above deck. Viktor took a cup of coffee with his morning meal, a luxury Yuuri had never experienced before. He had often taken tea with his breakfast, before Hisashi. The deep brown color of the coffee reminded him of his mother’s eyes and it made his stomach churn with homesickness. If there had ever been a chance to return home to them, he had lost it wholly now. 

Yuuri tied his ebony hair in a tail like he had on land and Cookie showed him how to carry the tray on his shoulder, to help ease the burden of the weight. Yuuri ascended the ladder with the tray on his shoulder, a change from carrying at his chest or hip for so long at the tavern. 

As he stepped onto the upper deck, the sea air greeted his nose like an old friend. He had been craving it, even, as if his omega needed it to breathe again. The morning light was still dim, the sun just about to rise, tinting the clouds to the east with pink and gold. The sight was so lovely Yuuri nearly forgot his duty, his Captain needed his breakfast served hot. Yuuri’s stomach dropped at the thought of failing, knowing repercussions would be unsavory.

The Captain’s cabin sat tucked under the quarterdeck of the ship, its windows facing astern of the Stammi Vicino, her massive wake parting behind her in a wide vee. Yuuri knocked twice before entering, as Cookie had instructed. He opened the door and announced his entrance softly.

There was no sign of movement in the cabin, only a slight rustling in the largest bed the boy had ever seen. It looked like a cloud, how white and fluffy it was. The Captain lay in bed, shirtless and breathing deeply. Yuuri almost hated to wake him, but the thick scent of him was nearly too much to manage.  
  
“Good morning, Captain. Your breakfast is ready,” Yuuri said softly, crossing the room carefully. He was still learning the sway of the ship, and he didn’t dare spill the Captain’s coffee. There was a soft sigh, a low groan as he sat up. Yuuri tried not to stare at the sight of him, his silver hair messily braided over his shoulder, his chest bare and sculpted like marble.

“Mmmmm, Andrei. C’mere, love. Let’s eat it together.” the Captain rumbled, his eyes still heavy lidded with sleep, barely awake. His heavy Northern accent rolled softly over the foreign name, setting Yuuri’s mind buzzing with questions and his heart with a new twinge of pain. Yuuri walked the tray over to the table against the wall of windows overlooking the rear of the ship, setting the table as Cookie had shown him. He stole a single glance backward at the Captain, who was rubbing his blue eyes and yawning. 

Yuuri couldn’t help but marvel at how childlike he looked.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?” Yuuri asked, as he had been instructed. He was not to stay in the cabin while he ate, under any circumstances. Viktor pulled his hands away from his eyes, puffy and red.

“Oh. Good morning, Yuuri,” The Captain replied, his voice that strange combination of unaffected restraint. His eyes traced Yuuri’s features, slowing and focusing on his cheeks. “Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, in a voice barely louder than a whisper; as if he didn’t know Yuuri was so dangerously close to his heat. “You’re… very flushed.”

“Don’t worry about me, Captain,” Yuuri said, feeling his cheeks heat with the realization that his heat was notably visible on his face. “I’m alright, just a little warm is all.” 

Viktor regarded him carefully, the intensity of it almost unnerving. His eye contact felt like a physical weight, heavy and warm in his core. After a while, the Captain looked away, scanning Yuuri up and down before pressing long fingers to his temples, rubbing them gently, indicating a nasty hangover. 

“Gods. The rum was plentiful last night,” the Captain winced as he spoke. “Send Cookie back with an oyster for me, will you?" 

Yuuri's brow furrowed at the request, but he didn't ask for clarification. Without another word, Yuuri bowed how Cookie had taught him; stiffly, bend at the waist, look down. A similar gesture was common in Yuuri’s homeland; he could remember his Mama teaching it to him when he was a boy.

_“Remember, Yuu-chan, we’re all equal here. We all lower ourselves in service to each other. No one person is above another. We’re all just people. Remember that."_

How things had changed by the time he presented as an omega. No one in their village was prepared to help an omega, even rarer a male omega, most of the village either having been born beta. Yuuri spent his heats in a village miles away, in a heathouse run by fellow omegas. They taught him the basics of his biology and how to protect himself from rutting and prowling alphas, and how to respectfully address an alpha, to avoid rage and stay safe in “uncomfortable situations”, they had called them. These new manners helped him a great deal for life in the tavern, but this relationship… whatever it could be called, between himself and Viktor… he hadn’t been prepared for this.

He waited until returning to the galley before his small smile broke, his omega seeking out comfort from the only friend he knew for certain he had. Cookie held him fast, rubbing small circles into his back as Yuuri bit back sobs. The looming catastrophe of his heat still weighed on his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. He knew he didn’t have more than two days before the tidal wave made landfall. Cookie was a beta and couldn’t sense the warning signs worsening. 

“He asked for an oyster?” Yuuri finally said, his voice cracking.

Cookie chuckled softly, rolling his eyes. “Is he that hungover then?” Yuuri nodded, wiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Go fetch an egg from the coop, will ya, darlin’?” Cookie asked, and Yuuri obeyed, plucking an egg from the hen’s nest. (The hen, he had learned, was named Empress Isadore, a surprisingly aristocratic name for a pirate ship’s chicken. The goat’s name, Saint Rumbarrel, had a quite compelling backstory that Cookie had advised Yuuri inquired with Christophe for.) When he returned, Yuuri nearly gagged as the cook cracked the egg into a short glass with a small amount of squeezed tomato juice, sprinkling a pinch of pepper and salt over it. 

“What… is that?” Yuuri questioned as Cookie added a splash of what smelled like vinegar and a spice that burned his nose to smell. 

“‘S his hangover cure,” Cookie explained with sarcasm in his voice. “Swears by it. I’ll bring it to ‘im, you stay down ‘ere, aye?” Cookie disappeared from the galley, giving Yuuri a handful of instructions to start the crew’s breakfast. It was quiet, save for the sounds of bubbling water on the stove and soft bleats from the pen beyond. For a while, Yuuri was able to lose himself in chopping potatoes, the ship still and serene before the crew woke for their meal. 

There was something soothing in it, simple and easy; he was almost immediately taken back to preparing food with his mother, to preparing veggies for soup, the memory of broth and meat simmering rose into Yuuri’s nose like old friends, warming him from the inside out. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

* * *

“What have I done?” Viktor breathed as he dropped his forehead to the table, narrowly avoiding his breakfast. “ _Gods_ , Chris. What am I going to do?” Viktor was taking his breakfast with his first mate, discussing routes and their schedule before shoving off. Fragmented memories and broken images of the previous night had slowly flitted into Viktor’s memory, drowned in rum and mead.

“To your first question, you recklessly became infatuated with a pre-heat omega in a tavern, he showed interest, his employer _sold_ him to you for the cost of a pair of boots, then you locked him in the brig… for some reason. And now the poor thing is making your food in the galley without pay. Late last night, I found you in here drunk off your ass and crying over… over _him_. I could barely pry you away from your desk. I would also like to know what you’ve done.”

Viktor felt his heart clench in his chest, scrambling for some kind of disdainful argument against the accusation, but none came. He couldn’t protest what he knew to be true. 

“To the second part, I have no clue in hell how you’re getting out of this.” Chris was visibly angry, his perfectly groomed eyebrows knit together. “Savior of all, Viktor, you’re going to give me worry lines.” He rubbed at the skin between his brows, breathing deeply to calm himself.

“I don’t know, Chris. Everything was fine until I watched him walk up the plank. I panicked.” Viktor felt himself flinch at the pointed look Christophe shot him, his glare piercing right through every excuse he could make.

“ _Panicked_? Gods above, Viktor. When most people panic, they don’t lock the object of their affection in the damned brig.” Christophe snapped, his anger rising in his scent in a way that nearly overpowered Viktor’s. 

“I remembered the way Cao Bin touched him, the way they _leered_ at him… they’re still so new, they’re untested, and I just… I can’t let them think I’m weak.”

“That poor boy _trusted_ you, you idiot. And now you’re keeping things as important as your unruly, untested crew from him, in hopes that he’ll simply understand?” Christophe asked derisively, “For fuck’s sake, the least you could do is explain things to him instead of keeping him in the dark.”

Head in his hands, Viktor raked his fingers through silver hair, catching a vicious tangle at the back of his neck. “Isn’t that for the best? If I don’t involve him, he can’t be seen as a liability, the crew wouldn’t… they couldn’t use him. If they mutiny, they would target him and you know it.”

A knock on the door interrupted the two, and Viktor prayed it was his hair of the dog arriving. Christophe huffed and returned to his breakfast as Viktor answered the door, gladly greeting Cookie and plucking the glass from his hand.

“Gods bless,” Viktor muttered under his breath and threw the concoction back, the combination of spice and tomato juice burning on the way down. 

“I still can’t believe you drink that awful thing,” Chris gagged dramatically, sipping from his canteen. “Cookie, would you _please_ help me convince our dear Captain that he’s being an abject idiot?”

“I’ve had half a mind to say so meself, Cap’n.” Cookie replied, his usual smile gone without a trace. “Whatd’ya think would happen? That lad’d jus’ let ya ruin his life?” 

Viktor recoiled, feeling his heart sink deeper into his stomach. “What am I supposed to do? Bring on an omega and treat him better than the rest of my crew? You both know how fucking dangerous this is.” Viktor snapped, his head throbbing with his hangover, the ghost of Yuuri’s scent still lingering in the room. 

“So your solution was to ignore him, treat him no better than a slave? Betray his trust and make him believe he’s worth less than dirt under your boot?” Christophe snarled, the tension between himself and the Captain thickening as anger swelled.

“The boy’s been aboard a single night, Cap’n… ” Cookie added, “I expected better from you.” The blow stung. Viktor hadn’t been one to be sentimental, not in a dog’s age, but he couldn’t help feel guilty at the disappointment in Cookie’s voice.

“I don’t want to hurt him, I never wanted to hurt him.” Viktor’s voice was ragged and weak with the admission.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” Christophe replied pointedly. "You can't have forgotten about his heat, right?" the first mate asked, crossing his arms with an expectant stare.

Shit. The combination of panic and rum the night before had stormed around in his head in every terrible way; but after a moment's memory, Viktor's heart fluttered at Yuuri's cheeks flushed and his sweet, flustered mannerisms. They made him ache at his core, the thought that he had receded into the cold 'Captain' persona after promising so much to him, without so much as an explanation.

"I have to tell him." Viktor breathed, his chest tightening around the realization. "He… he has to know what’s going on, before we shove off."

Chris nodded solemnly. "And if he wants to leave, are you ready to let him go?" 

Viktor felt a pang of something ugly in his chest at the thought, his very being pulling against the idea, but he nodded regardless. He had to. 

* * *

The small compartment of the galley had no windows. No porthole, no way to see the sky. At least the Gilded Hull had a window in the kitchen. All Yuuri had to keep himself centered was the hope that he would learn how to sail with Christophe and someday might be sailing his own vessel, at the helm of a ship with a loving mate. He would be able to smell the sea spray and hear gulls call him a good morning every day, feel the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. He'd have a crew of his own to command and a caring lover sailing by his side. But until then, cooking for a crew of fifty and a suddenly distant Captain would suffice, as long as he could learn the basics of sailing while he was aboard the _Stammi_.

Cookie had returned from the Captain's cabin after a long while, finding Yuuri still slicing vegetables, rejoining him without a word and preparing the final meal before the vessel was set to shove off. Afforded the luxuries of markets on land, Cookie had planned for a few meals with hearty, fatty meat to boost the crew’s morale, as well as prepare them for harder days ahead, as stocks began to dwindle between ports. 

The mess began to fill with the crew as their preparations came to a close, the mass of tired, hungover men eager for their meal. “Yuuri, feed Saint Rumbarrel her barley, will you?” Cookie asked as he rang the bell in the mess. “The men can’t eat until their Lady’s got her breakfast.”

Yuuri stifled a small laugh and nodded, dropping a few handfuls of grain into the goat’s feed trough. “They really love her, don’t they?” Yuuri laughed, petting the speckled goat between the horns as she began to eat. 

“The returnin’ crew tell the greenies that she’s the _Stammi’s_ good luck charm,” Cookie explained, pouring a pint of goat’s milk into the large pot of oatmeal and stirring it in with a generous amount of cinnamon and sweet-smelling syrup. “Ye’d be surprised wha sailors’ll believe if they think ‘s lucky.” Yuuri laughed again, and Cookie met his eye with a bright smile. “‘S nice ta hear ya laugh, darlin’.”

Yuuri flushed and returned to his task of chopping, watching from the corner of the galley as Cookie dished out everyone’s breakfast one by one, each of them thanking him as they passed. He cast his eyes down as a familiar group of sailors approached, willing himself to become invisible merely to avoid being noticed by hungry, lewd eyes. 

“Needed an extra hand in the kitchen, didya, Cookie?” one of them asked, earning a snicker from another of them. 

“I could use an extra _hand_ , if he’s for hire…” a third said, and Yuuri could recognize the man’s voice from memory. There was almost no delay in a low _thunk_ sound, pulling Yuuri’s eyes up from his work. The red-headed man was rubbing his temple, cleaning a smattering of wet oats from his hair. 

“Don’ ye dare talk about ‘im that way,” Cookie warned, reaching for a clean wooden spoon. “You’ll get worse’n that next time, and no food til’ sundown for you. Apologize to the boy.” Yuuri caught the man’s eye for a moment, seeing the anger there and cast his gaze back down. 

The sailor grimaced and clicked his tongue in disgust. There was a low growl and he turned heel without a word, leading his small group back out of the mess, hands in their pockets.

Viktor hadn’t taken a meal in the mess in years, but something about the dull roar of morning chatter and clattering flatware made him smile, brought fond memories back to the forefront. Chris had ostensibly pushed him out of the great cabin after their chat earlier, not allowing him a moment to delay or deliberate further.

The pair made their way down the ladders toward the mess, both of them greeted by crew as they began to take their stations, preparing to shove off. The ship was buzzing with excitement, Viktor could feel it in the planks. With that excitement came the dread, realizing that he may be losing Yuuri. 

Even if he could forgive him, the betrayal had likely ruined any chance he had of wooing him, or earning the same kind of affection that he held for Yuuri.

“Just tell him you need to speak with him.” Christophe encouraged as they passed the bunkhouses, “Be calm, show him you care.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Viktor said with a nod and Chris trotted on ahead to the mess, most likely to beg for a small helping of the breakfast they had both been smelling all morning, even though their own food was leagues better. It hurt, knowing he couldn’t make an outward display of his favor… but god, he could _smell_ him from here. 

Viktor swallowed thickly and pulled himself together, the very thought of Yuuri threatening to drag him under again. A sharp peal of laughter from behind a bunkhouse door drew Viktor’s attention; he turned to the cracked-open door belonging to Cao Bin and his scraggly beta cohorts. They weren’t as green as most of the new recruits, but they were certainly the most unruly. Viktor had only become more cautious of the man, not only for the ghastly treatment of Yuuri the night before, but because of the way the man had begun marking indiscriminately. He was leaving smears of his scent all over the ship and this morning was no different, the pungent stench of a prowling alpha made Viktor’s stomach turn.

He’d have to discipline him for poor form. 

He held his breath as he passed through the cloud of pheromones leaking out from under the door, but the tail end of a comment caught him off guard. 

“I swear I’m gonna have to do somethin’... that damn omega.” Viktor’s blood ran cold and he stopped, listening to Cao Bin’s muffled voice through the cracked door. “Did he think it was a good idea to bring one aboard? With how many alphas he’s got on contract?”

Viktor fought the urge to growl at the gossip, disrespect for a man’s Captain resulted in worse than a reprimand on most ships. A roll of laughs filled the room and another piped in.

“He’s a blasted idiot, thinking with his knot.” Another bout of laughs. “Can’t blame him though, kid’s a sight for sore eyes. Where’dya reckon he’s from?”

“Shut up, it doesn’t matter.” Cao Bin barked, “I’ll fucking mutiny if he goes soft for that damn omega.” Viktor’s heart dropped into his stomach. “A real alpha doesn’t go soft for an omega. Just ‘cause he’s the Captain doesn’t mean he can fuck the cabin whore while we’re still trying to earn a living.”

Viktor felt a surge of bile collecting in his throat. How _dare_ one of his men call Yuuri such a degrading thing. He had half a mind to put an immediate end to the man’s contract, to drop him off the ship before they left port. 

But the men in the room beyond laughed along, and Viktor knew better than to think three men were incapable of irreparable harm. It had only taken a handful of men for Viktor himself to successfully mutiny, all those years ago. He felt that pang of fear strike true, pulling away from such a pitiable act as eavesdropping, making for the galley with fire in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ominous music*
> 
> <3 ia  
> do you want to read ahead? follow the twitter link below and read the pinned tweet!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor offers a warning, Cookie tells a story, Yuuri has a wet dream.

Yuuri was dismissed to his room after the last of the men had been served. 

“Go on, get some rest. I’ll come fetch ya when it’s time fer lunch.” Cookie had said, clearly aware of how Yuuri felt just by looking at him. He felt dead on his feet, sweating and feverish. His heat would be there within a few days and the stirring unease in his gut did nothing to soothe his worries.

He found the hammock much more comfortable than he had the night before, quickly falling into dark, messy dreams. He woke with a start to a knock on his door, three short taps. 

_“Yuuri?”_

It was the Captain’s voice, that familiar accent was recognizable even through the thick door. Yuuri made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled himself out of sleep, pushing the blanket aside to find he was hard, almost painfully so. The thought of the Captain seeing him this way was far too embarrassing to entertain. Yuuri squirmed at the idea, bunching up his blanket and setting it in his lap, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. 

“Come in,” Yuuri called in reply, flinching at the sudden flood of light in the room, but the strong wave of Viktor’s scent was entirely welcome. 

“I’m… sorry to intrude,” the Captain apologized in a strangled voice. “I need to speak with you, I hope now is an alright time?”

Yuuri bit back a derisive snort. He was being kept in a room below deck, all he had was time. “Now is fine,” Yuuri replied, watching as the Captain lingered in the doorway. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor began, fiddling with a button on his coat. “I just thought you should be wary.” There was a hesitation in his voice that Yuuri hadn’t seen before. 

“Of what, Captain?” Yuuri prodded after Viktor fell silent, something tumultuous behind his eyes. Yuuri watched the curtain fall, a nervous, hesitant man hidden behind a mask again.

“The men.” The Captain answered tersely, folding his arms behind his back. “They aren’t… trustworthy. I don’t know what you know of pirates, Yuuri, but I assure you, we’re nothing like what children’s bedtime stories make us out to be.”

Yuuri cocked an eyebrow up. “You underestimate what I know, Captain.” Yuuri mustered, feeling the tiniest bit brave. “I’ve read more than children’s stories.”

The Captain took a heavy step forward, letting Yuuri’s door fall shut behind him. The room fell dark, only a sliver of light filtered in from beneath the door. The room was inky and dark around him, Viktor’s steps were disguised by the swaying of the ship; Yuuri swallowed thickly, something like fear crawling up into his throat as the air grew warmer, thicker, somehow.

“Then you’ll know how dangerous a mutiny would be,” Viktor whispered, his voice closer than Yuuri had expected. “You’ll know what kind of dangerous men are aboard this ship. _You’ll know, Yuuri,_ that I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Yuuri nodded shallowly, the fear that had begun brewing took hold. “Yes, I know,” he managed in a matching whisper. The air was thick and tense, still and heady like a cloudless summer night. “I know the risks.”

“Do you?” Viktor asked, his voice low. “Are you prepared for the grueling journeys, the storms, the violence? Are you ready to put your life on the line to keep a bargain?" 

Yuuri felt himself shaking with it, his breakfast churning in his gut. Was he? Was he truly prepared for that? He had bet his servitude on the kindness of a man who seemed to have no regard for him now, what assurance did he have that Viktor would protect him? 

Had his every word been a lie? 

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat. No, Christophe had been there. He was kind, Christophe would have warned him. He still couldn't shake the Captain's words from his mind. But why was Viktor offering him a choice at all? He had haggled Tobias for him. The Captain _bought_ him. What kind of man offered his debtor escape? What would he gain? 

"I… I don't understand," Yuuri managed after a moment, feeling his heart crawling into his throat. "Why are you asking me these things? Are you implying I have a choice in the matter?"

"Yes. You have a choice." Viktor answered solemnly. Yuuri flinched at the tone of his voice, authoritative and cold. But Yuuri had seen behind the mask before enough to know something more was on the line, something he wasn’t willing to give up. "Answer me, Yuuri. Please. Do you want to leave?”

Yuuri bit his lip. He wouldn't break another promise. He wouldn't be a coward again. He couldn't. 

“No.” Yuuri finally replied, his voice weaker than he had hoped it would be. “No, I… I don’t want to leave.”

The door cracked open and golden light spilled into the room once again, illuminating half of Viktor’s features. He was sharp and severe in the light, the sight sent a chill down Yuuri’s spine.

“We shove off in an hour.” The door opened wider, casting Viktor entirely in silhouette. “Be careful. The only people you can trust are myself, Christophe and Cookie, do you understand?”

Yuuri nodded, wondering if he had made a mistake. He had just given up his only opportunity to leave, and now needed to draft a plan to survive the hurricane.

* * *

That afternoon, the _Stammi Vicino_ set sail for warmer waters, escaping the frigid clutches of winter just in time for the first flakes of snow to flutter from the sky. 

It had been an ordeal. Yelling, boot stomping, and gods, the gunfire. Shoving off was a regular event, but the volleys of pistols discharging lasted so long, Yuuri’s ears began to ring, even three levels below deck. 

Yuuri’s sense of time was distorted, unable to tell from a window, by the shadows, or truly know if any time had passed at all. His hammock swayed even more with a moving ship, rocking with the rise and fall of the massive vessel over the slow, lolling waves. It became difficult to keep his omega at bay, as the impending disaster that would be his heat loomed unavoidably on the horizon. 

It wasn’t until they had been moving for either hours or a few minutes that there was a knock on Yuuri’s door, signaling that he was free to move around the ship, their departure from port finally complete. The sound that had previously brought the contents of his stomach up into his throat instead brought tears to his eyes, Yuuri was exceedingly glad to finally rejoin Cookie in the galley. 

He could at least listen to Cookie’s stories, high-flying adventures and tales of the crew’s exploits in far-away lands, and the stories dotted in about the Captain, as Cookie tried to paint him in the best light he could. There was only so much to be done though, as the people he had met in taverns or captives rescued from rival bands always seemed to end up eating breakfast with him the next morning and needing baths drawn at all hours of the night. 

At the very least, Yuuri appreciated the company; Cookie was a kind man, soft and protective beneath his rough exterior. When the door swung open, it wasn’t Cookie on the other side, but Christophe. 

“Good afternoon sweetheart,” the first mate crooned, “The Captain would like you to tidy up his cabin.” Chris's accent was not unlike the Captain’s, if a touch warmer. It was romantic and soft, almost seductive. He nearly purred each syllable, but something melancholy colored his voice then, something Yuuri couldn’t quite touch. 

A too-sweet, rosy scent rushed into the room as Yuuri stepped out of his hammock. It was absolutely repulsive in Yuuri’s nose, despite the warm, sweet-wine accent of it. It wasn’t the Captain’s scent and Yuuri felt sick to his stomach. The first mate’s hooded hazel eyes flicked over Yuuri’s every feature, wandering up and down his bare torso and ample thighs. 

His clothes had long since become a burden; any fabric was too scratchy against Yuuri’s hyper-sensitive skin, and the smell of cooking grease and other body odors masked what little he was able to retain from the Captain. He yanked the cleaner of his two shirts over his head and hissed at the roughness over his sensitive nipples, the sensation like scrubbing his skin with sand.

“Yes, Christophe.” Came his grumbled reply, his stomach growling with want for lunch, having slept through preparations, and therefore, through lunch itself. He hoped Cookie had saved him a portion.

“ _Ah, ah, ah_ , we can’t have that grumpiness, now, can we?” Christophe purred, pushing what Yuuri was sure was meant to be a calming wave of pheromones. There was no calming at that point.

Combined with the endless swaying, the first mate’s scent and his honeyed words, Yuuri felt his stomach churn. His breakfast was quickly making a reappearance, and sprinting to his bucket, he emptied the contents of his stomach. Coughing and sputtering, hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he stood up. 

“Yuuri, I’m-”

“Please. Don’t.” Yuuri shuddered, not moving from his position, cowering in the corner. He felt like a drowned rat, shivering and afraid. “You smell. Get out.”

Christophe made a quiet sound like understanding and the door swung shut, the rosy wine scent leaving with him. Yuuri breathed in slowly, pushing his breath back out again. At least he would be able to smell the Captain again, he thought with a warm shiver, before grimacing again.

He needed to empty his bucket.

* * *

After dumping the contents of his bucket overboard, Yuuri could finally breathe again. The crisp December air was cleansing. Christophe had left him well alone after the ordeal, calling for Cookie in a panic. The cook gave him some water to drink and a few wafers to calm his stomach, not daring to feed him anything more substantive, should it upset his stomach again. Yuuri was grateful that such care could be taken for an omega on board, feeling a few of his worries fade as Cookie brewed him a peppermint tea.

The anxieties weren’t completely erased, of course. Yuuri still felt the weight of eyes on him as he went above deck, still heard his name in whispers. He was still terrified, but Cookie’s protection meant something.

When he arrived in the great cabin, he found it in complete disarray. The Captain left his clothing scattered on the floor and made a horrid mess of his bed. It wouldn’t be so terrible to tidy if simply being in the cabin didn’t pull his inner omega out from under his control, especially this dangerously close to his heat. 

Viktor’s scent hung heavy on every single article of clothing, though slightly masked by the rum he seemed to spill on anything and everything. The aroma of his chocolate-flavored tobacco drifted lazily through the air, mingling with Viktor’s natural scent, dark and warm, like rich cedar, like his leather coat. Being surrounded by Viktor’s scent like this was dangerous, tempting in the worst ways; making his bed lifted the strongest of it directly into his nose. 

It was intoxicating, the musk was so impossibly soothing for how frustratingly vague and distant Viktor was. Yuuri _knew_ that joining Viktor, boarding the _Stammi_ would be dangerous. Viktor hadn’t needed to point it out the way he did.

A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine at the memory. Warm lips, quiet words in the dark. Yuuri could recall the night on the docks in agonizingly vivid detail, when he leaned in and kissed his cheek so tenderly… he ached for that night again, before any of this happened. The lingering breath between his knuckles; it sent chills down his spine, settling hot and heavy beneath his navel. Yes, this was the scent his omega craved. 

After fluffing the pillows just perfectly, and taking one last inhale of him, Yuuri tore himself away to continue straightening up the cabin. Yuuri had seen how Viktor liked his desk arranged when he brought him his breakfast, his shiny golden instruments lined up on parade at the top of the desk along with his inkpots and pens, maps in a pile on the left and blank parchment piled on the right. His spyglass was set at his right hand; the instrument was black and gold, engraved with a small gilded beacon. 

Evidently he had been very busy in the gap between breakfast and noontime; parchment was strewn across the desk and floor, and more than a few ink spills. As Yuuri organized the desk, he noticed a leather-bound journal underneath the rubble. It was worn by time and use, more than likely a Captain's log of some sort. Yuuri stacked the maps and parchment in the way he requested, and only the journal was left; it lay flat, open to a page with messy, stumbling handwriting that devolved into smeared ink, ripped paper where his pen tore through.

_I'm sorry, My Star. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Gods, what I wouldn't give to see your smile, just one last time. To say goodbye, to thank you one last time. My love, my Star, my Andrei._

Yuuri knew he meant nothing to the Captain, but this… this stung like a whip’s lashing. He wasn’t stupid enough to assume he was the only person Viktor had seduced, that the attention he had given the omega was, on some level, a farce. It wasn’t as if others hadn’t given him similar attention. But knowing the Captain still loved another made his heart ache. Further down the page was nothing but that name, Andrei. Over and over, repeated ad nauseum until the handwriting started to blur, ink began to smear and run together. 

Suddenly realizing what he was reading, and that he would dearly regret being caught doing so, Yuuri closed the journal and placed it on top of a stack of parchment. He had to ask Cookie. He needed to know.

* * *

Yuuri lost himself easily in the menial task of chopping vegetables in the galley. Vegetables were easy to understand. Easier than anything currently rumbling around in his mind, at least. Cookie was kneading dough for tack, sprinkling salt as he went, humming a quiet tune that Yuuri could easily drown in, letting the sound of scraping cutlery pull him into a quiet kind of meditation. It was a welcome reprieve from the whirlwind he had survived for the past few days. 

“Ow’s the veg comin’?” Cookie asked after a while, as Yuuri swept another freshly diced onion into the large pot for broth. “‘S nearly time for simmerin’.”

“Almost finished,” Yuuri replied, wiping his free hand on his apron. How much time had passed? “Just need to do the tomatoes and we’ll be ready.” 

Cookie smiled at him fondly, ruffling his hair and pulling the basket of sun-ripened tomatoes from cold storage. “Let’s do it together, hm? Quicker that way.”

Yuuri nodded and slid to the side, plucking a tomato from the basket. The color was impeccable, he recognized the shape of it from one of the neighboring farms on land. Cookie must have been gathering supplies while Viktor was… buying him. The thought turned his stomach again, and he stepped away from the counter with his hands over his mouth. Cookie turned with worry in his eyes, arms extended. 

“I… I’m fine,” Yuuri waved him off, shuddering through a few slow breaths. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry fer,” Cookie assured him. “Ye’ve clearly got somethin’ in yer head. Spit it out.”

Yuuri flushed, hesitating for a moment before sliding back into place beside him, a half-diced tomato waiting to be made into stew. “Can I ask you something?”

“Don’t see why not, darlin, ask away,” Cookie answered with a bright smile, lifting Yuuri’s spirits a little. “Ye’ve got a bit a catchin’ up ta do.”

“Aye, I know.” Yuuri nodded, fiddling with his knife, just now noticing the dirt under his fingernails. He needed a bath, desperately. One of the things he had taken for granted back home… the home he’d likely never see again.

“Yuuri.” Cookie prodded gently, shaking his thoughts loose like orchard apples in late autumn.

“I… I saw something in one of the Captain’s logs.” Yuuri began, feeling worry claw its way up into his throat. “Who’s Andrei?” Yuuri whispered, trying to keep his voice low. 

Cookie sighed heavily, the kind of sigh that men gave in lieu of an explanation. “Darlin’, you don’ wanna know.”

“Please, Cookie. Tell me.” Yuuri pleaded, picking at the wound. It only worsened things, he knew it. It would only hurt. But he was desperate. He had to know.

“Yuuri, I don' think 's a good idea...” Yuuri felt something sharp break in his chest, a shaky sigh shuddered to life and he brushed the beginnings of tears away from his eyes. “Alrigh’, okay. I’ll tell ye. Since ye said please.” Cookie sighed, picking up another tomato and slicing the stem off with a quick flick of his wrist. “ Jus remember. Speak a word a this to Cap’n and he migh’ toss ya overboard.”

“You have my word,” Yuuri promised, sniffing back his embarrassing tears. “Who is he?”

“Andrei was Cap’n’s righ’ hand… his mate. His Star, he called 'im. Fierce and strong as a tidal wave. He was kind but stubborn as a mule, never once let Cap’n rest if ‘e thought somethin’ weren’t righ’. The light a’ his life, he was.”

“ _Was_?” Yuuri interjected, the knife in his hand slowing to a stop.

“There was a mutiny, what made Cap’n our cap’n, ‘gainst the bastard called ‘imself King o’ the ol’ girl. We never liked the man, but ‘e was cap’n and we did what ‘e said. Five years now, it must be. Cap’n got together a group a’ likeminded folk, all unhappy wit’ the way the ol’ cap’n carried ‘imself, and they dragged ‘im out to the main deck. Whole thing went well. Still were a few unhappy wit Cap'n's changes.” Cookie shook his head. “Went for 'em while they slept. Cap’n turned ta’ Andrei, and the ol’ firs' mate pulled a gun on ‘im, got up while ‘is back was turned. Fired at Cap’n’s head, but ‘e missed. You ever seen that scar, side a’ Cap’n’s neck?”

Yuuri nodded, holding his breath.

“Bullet went righ’ by Cap’n’s neck, hit Andrei dead on. Poor soul didn’t even see it comin’.” Cookie sighed and turned back to the pile of chopped potatoes. “Messy business, mutiny. Seen my fair share of ‘em in my time on the ol’ girl.” He patted the counter lovingly. “Six cap’n come and gone, mutiny or no, but I ain’t never seen a one a’ ‘em in love like Cap’n was with ‘is Star. The men say a part a’ ‘is soul died with Andrei.”

Yuuri felt something stirring in his core at the thought of it. Something tender, something unfamiliar and painful. It was a wound, deeper inside him than even he could reach. It was more than he had expected. It wasn’t merely painful. It was painful in a way that he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t put words to it. But the thoughts didn’t leave him. 

Yuuri carried the weight of preheat heavy behind his navel, low-level arousal buzzing beneath his skin all afternoon. The only reprieve he had found (other than easing the tension with his hand) was to curl into himself and let sleep carry him away, if only for a little while. 

His nose burned with every scent that wasn’t either his own or Viktor’s, and his skin was so sensitive he felt as if a simple touch from another human being might push him over the edge.

After preparations for dinner concluded, Yuuri excused himself to his cabin, hoping desperately to retreat into the dreamless sleep he’d been chasing. The ship had blessedly found calmer waters, easing Yuuri’s queasiness a bit. Yuuri couldn't get undressed fast enough. He whimpered as the material dragged against his irritated skin. He toed off his boots and climbed into his hammock in the dark, eager to escape, if only for a while. Sleep took him easily, the incessant arousal was utterly exhausting. 

His usually dreamless sleep had been plagued by phantom hands and mouths as of late, the dreams offering little in terms of physical release. Ghosting touches and kisses danced across Yuuri's skin, the heady scent of _Alpha_ wrapped him in warmth and safety as he was gently taken apart by the phantom hands. He was floating on wave after wave of pleasure, surrounded by the scent and sounds of a pleased alpha. Dream Yuuri opened his eyes to see the figure so delicately loving him, meeting face-to-face with his Captain, who greeted him with a smile and a delicious, throaty moan of his name.

 _"Yuuuuuuuri,”_ A heavy warmth settled between his legs as the Captain swallowed Yuuri’s cock to the root. Low, pleased moans rumbled through Yuuri’s flesh as his own moans grew louder and more desperate. He thrust shamelessly into the Captain’s mouth, chasing his release. His mouth was so soft and warm… oh gods, he could smell his musk, his leather coat. The Captain’s scent settled into his nose like dust, soaking into the spread of his flushed skin. 

Viktor pulled off his cock with a deliciously wet pop and caught Yuuri’s lips in a kiss. He moaned into Yuuri’s mouth, gentle praise pouring off his tongue with every rushed gasp for air. A strong hand wrapped around Yuuri’s cock, stroking with the saliva left there.

 _“Yuuri… my Yuuri… gods, you’re beautiful,”_ Viktor gasped against Yuuri’s throat, laving his tongue wetly against his scent gland. Pleasure coiled itself tight in Yuuri’s gut and he thrust erratically into Viktor’s tight fist. _to“Come for me, Yuuri…_ ” An aborted moan caught in his throat and the noise shook him from sleep, his spent cock softening between his legs. 

It had only happened a few times after he presented, that preheat dreams would bring him to climax, and it was usually in the days immediately before his heat would arrive. He was balancing on a knife’s edge, so desperately close to his heat. White ribbons of come ran down the soft lines of his abdomen as he swung his legs over the edge of his hammock. His thoughts swam with images of the Captain, gently touching him and tending to him so lovingly. 

It felt like he was getting a peek behind the facade. Behind the mask of ice that froze over the Captain’s features that night. The thought danced tempting and maddening in the back of Yuuri’s mind. He was nearly in tears with embarrassment but his inner omega was preening, aching for the attention he had found in the dream.

He knew he would have to face the Captain again soon, to serve his dinner. A few deep breaths pushed his omega back down before redressing for dinner preparations. He wiped away the now tacky come on his stomach and the slick between his legs. If it were possible, Yuuri would never dress again. His clothing scraped at his skin as he dressed and Yuuri cursed whoever decided humanity needed to be clothed at all.

Gathering his hair into a tail down his back, Yuuri tried to push away the softness of his dream. Regardless of how real it felt, how convincing his imagination had been, the Captain was still the Captain. He still had orders to follow, he still had to be careful. Any kind of weakness, any kind of slip would spell disaster. Still, uneasiness settled into his stomach. A final deep breath rushed past Yuuri’s lips as he pulled the heavy door open. 

His worries and the demanding pull of arousal was easily hidden behind a smile and quiet conversation. Yuuri’s mind was pulled in a storm of different directions, torn between soft, hazy thoughts of his Captain and the confusion from their chat that afternoon. What had he meant, the men were untrustworthy?

With the Captain’s supper plated and ready to be served, Yuuri’s hands shook as he moved above deck. He steadied himself with more deep breaths, inhaling the salty tang of ocean air to ease his nerves. The din of sailor’s voices quieted to a murmur as he passed, drowned out by the thundering of Yuuri’s pulse. There was something eerie about it, unsettling the way the world seemed to slow to a stop around him. Yuuri swallowed thickly and continued toward the Captain’s cabin, feeling the burn of eyes on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ominous music* x2
> 
> do you want to read ahead? follow the twitter link below and read the pinned tweet!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor drinks, Yuuri tells a story. Kisses are shared, Yuuri's heat looms ahead.

The Captain had been drinking. Yuuri could smell it on his breath and on his skin, like he had used his rum as cologne. It was impossibly frustrating, both to Yuuri and his omega; he craved the thick scent of him more than he would have liked to admit. The Captain’s scent was intoxicating and heady, warm like afternoon sunshine on bare skin. 

Yuuri shuddered as he set the Captain’s table, nearly dropping his spoon on the floor. Viktor was nursing his flask, lounged artlessly across his leather davenport, a book propped up in front of his nose, though Yuuri doubted he was reading it. Every time he dared steal a glance at him, Viktor was looking right back, his cheeks stained with liquor blush and his lips spread in a wide smile. 

He was too pretty for the icy warning he had given Yuuri earlier that morning. 

Yuuri was practically buzzing with preheat, making his best attempt to avoid any unnecessary exposure to the Captain’s pheromones. The memory of his dream earlier that afternoon still laid heavy behind his navel and the dense haze of scent in the cabin was nearly too much for him. He needed to escape into his little cabin and relieve some of the need in his core, but when he turned to leave, Viktor stopped him. 

“Wait! Come here, love. I need you,” Viktor crooned, hazy with drink and something that Yuuri _instinctively_ understood to be pre-rut. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. This was dangerous. But Yuuri couldn’t pull himself away.

“You _need_ to eat your dinner.” Yuuri attempted to redirect him as Viktor’s hand wrapped around his wrist loosely, his grip definitely weak enough to pull out of, if he wanted to. The Captain’s touch brought Yuuri back to the moment he had done the same thing at the tavern, before all of this mess began. His touch burned at Yuuri’s skin, but not in the abrasive way clothes or another body did. It burned in the way that made him crave more.

His long, slender fingers danced lightly over the scent gland in Yuuri’s wrist, pressing down carefully on the swollen skin. Yuuri bit back a small whine, but the aborted sound still seemed to reach Viktor’s ears. His eyes fluttered open, a piercing blue ring around pupils blown wide and dark.

“You smell nice…” Viktor cooed, lifting Yuuri’s wrist to his nose and breathing his scent deeply. 

“I… thank you, Captain,” Yuuri muttered in reply, the tone of his voice was entirely different to the one Yuuri had heard that morning, one that settled warmly in his core, fizzling like champagne on his tongue. “You do too.”

Viktor preened at the compliment, a giddy, chirpy croon rumbling in his chest. Yuuri’s lips twitched upward in a small smile at the sound of a pleased alpha. It felt nice, to be the reason for an alpha’s crooning… to be the cause of that dopey grin, no matter how soaked with rum it was. Yuuri felt himself leaning closer, pulled toward him like the tide pulled to shore. 

With a low, giggly purr, Viktor’s larger frame wrapped around Yuuri’s the heat of his skin almost unbearable against him. “What--”

“You’re so sweet to me, I just… wanna hold you.” Viktor slurred messily, “Andrei...” The Captain murmured against Yuuri’s cheek, and the illusion was broken. Yuuri had almost been able to imagine that Viktor wanted him, that he was interested in him, even for a moment.

“Captain, I’m not… my name is Yuuri-” The Captain silenced Yuuri’s protest with a finger down the middle of his lips, his eyes focusing intently on Yuuri’s for a long moment. Yuuri could see the instant Viktor recognized him for who he was and an even wider smile broke across his features.

“Shhhhhhhh, I knew that, silly,” The Captain _giggled_ , his cheeks flushed and red with drink. His eyes were wet and shining with mirth, his lips parted in what seemed to be a permanent smile. “You’re Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuri. The pretty one from the tavern.” Yuuri flushed at the compliment. It almost washed away the ache of being called the wrong name.

“Captain, are you alright? Do you need me to get you anything?” Yuuri asked instead of revealing what was truly on his mind, feeling something warm reverberating in his chest, like his heart itself had been rung like a bell. 

“Mmmm, nope, I just… just wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you, Yuuuuuuuuuuri?” That heart-shaped smile split his face again, the one that Yuuri knew he couldn’t resist. 

“One kiss. Then you need to eat your dinner.” Yuuri conceded, trying desperately to mask the need that had been roiling in his gut. Viktor smiled and pulled him toward the couch, a soft-looking blanket still laying in a crumpled heap on the leather. 

“One kiss…” Viktor slurred messily, “Do I have a time limit?”

Yuuri nearly choked on a laugh. “That’s cheating,” he answered, melting easily into Viktor’s lap as they sat together on the couch. It felt so natural, so right and easy; Viktor was warm, soft but unyielding. Yuuri felt his omega softening, yearning for more than Yuuri was willing to give. 

“Well. ‘m a pirate, it‘s kinda part of the deal.” Viktor laughed, his eyes bright and mirthful. Yuuri felt himself smiling. His cheeks burned and he knew he was flushed. 

“You can have until the count of three.” Yuuri answered, not sure when he had leaned so close into Viktor’s space. He could see every individual silver eyelash, every pale freckle on the Captain’s cheeks. “But after that, we have to stop. And you have to eat.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Okay.” the Captain returned, and his eyelids fell slowly, heavily. He was waiting. 

Yuuri eased further into his orbit, their noses brushing momentarily. Yuuri could feel his pulse rushing in his ears, until another sound reached his ears. A soft, hitched gasp filled the space between them, and Yuuri chased the sound of it with his lips. Viktor was tempting and Yuuri’s omega was bad at self-control. 

“ _One.”_ Yuuri whispered against Viktor’s mouth, the reply a soft whine that barely sounded like something Viktor could have made. There was a tiny twitch of his hips upward into Yuuri’s ass, and the burst of satisfaction from that simple act was impossible to describe. 

Yuuri’s lips moved against Viktor’s slowly, allowing a tiny gap between them that Viktor quickly filled with another moan. Yuuri had been kissed before, by a drunk patron who was hoping to warm his bed that night, and the angry, bruising kisses from Hisashi, but he had never been kissed like this. Viktor’s lips were greedy, insatiable. He kissed Yuuri with a fervor that he had never experienced before. 

_“Two.”_ Yuuri counted again, barely remembering to do so. Viktor’s breath was coming in sharp pants, huffing hot against Yuuri’s cheek. Viktor’s tongue danced temptingly at his lower lip, begging permission to explore. Yuuri parted his lips just slightly, allowing the Captain a taste. 

Viktor took everything Yuuri gave him, gasping against his mouth as their lips began to tangle. It took Yuuri’s breath away, the way Viktor kissed him, the way his grip tightened around Yuuri’s hips, teasing at the hem of his shirt. Yuuri felt drunk on the fumes of his rum, or perhaps it was the taste of his lips that had his mind spinning. Regardless, Yuuri could feel the hard press of Viktor’s cock against his thigh and gods, it was intoxicating. 

He even felt himself beginning to rock in Viktor’s lap, finding a rhythm that felt like the sounds of their heartbeat, the rush of breath moving together like a song all its own. 

Yuuri knew that he was forgetting _something,_ but what that something was, he couldn’t possibly know. Not when Viktor’s lips were so warm and eager against his, not when every breath was hot and fast and needy. It would be so easy, effortless, to simply stay the night, to let Viktor kiss him until morning. 

Yuuri pulled away instead; despite every urge to continue kissing him, to let things move forward, to fall further into Viktor’s touch. He couldn’t. Not with so much between them.

“You didn’t get to three.” Viktor whispered breathlessly. His cheeks were bright red, now that Yuuri had leaned away. His eyes looked brighter somehow. 

“I… I did, you know I did.” Yuuri answered, seriously doubting whether or not he had truly said the word. Viktor’s eyes gleamed playfully, that shimmer of drunken mischief bubbling like water in the hot springs back home. 

“I don’t think you did, Yuuuuuuuri,” Viktor giggled, rubbing his thumb over his swollen, kiss-bruised lower lip. _Yuuri had done that._ He had kissed him. And kissed him enough to leave his lips looking… like that. “Maybe we should try again? I’m sure we can get to three if we go again.”

Yuuri flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “No, no, that’s cheating,” he stammered, leaning away from his disheveled Captain and his hard-on. “I said until three and we passed that.”

Viktor’s lips turned downward into an honest-to-gods pout. “But you didn’t _say_ it. I think _that’s_ cheating.” 

Yuuri bit his lip and found that it was throbbing with his heartbeat. “Captain,” Yuuri began, but Viktor interrupted with a finger to his lips. 

“I understand. No more kisses.” he said with certainty, reaching for his flask and taking a long pull. “You have such pretty eyes. Pretty voice too. Tell me a story. Will you tell me a story instead?”

Yuuri furrowed his brow. “Tell you a story?” Viktor simply nodded, his fringe shaking loose from his braid. This was far from the strangest thing he had encountered since boarding the _Stammi_. “What kind of story?”

“Mmm,” Viktor hummed thoughtfully, tapping his lips with one slender finger. “Tell me about your home, Yuuuuuuri.” 

Yuuri felt himself shrink away for a moment. Home. How long had it been since he had gone home? How long since Hisashi took him away? “Home. Okay.” Yuuri slipped out of Viktor’s lap, choosing instead to sit beside him. “Home.”

“We can talk about me instead?” The Captain supplied, and Yuuri tried to fight a laugh at the thought of a drunk Viktor trying to tell a story. 

“No, no, I’ll tell you a story. Since you asked.” Yuuri smiled and let Viktor adjust himself, laying his head on Yuuri’s thigh, spreading out across the couch. “Comfortable, Captain?”

“Mmm, Yuuri’s thighs are wonderful.” Viktor answered with a toothy grin. “I can see his pretty eyes, pretty lips…”

Yuuri laughed and nodded along. “My sister, Mari, married her wife Koharu three years ago. Or maybe it was four,” Yuuri trailed off, trying to remember how long it had been. There were dark memories in that direction, back into the past. He shuddered and pushed forward instead. “I was young. fifteen, maybe.”

“Little Yuuri…” Viktor mumbled dreamily, his nose pinked with blush and rum. “Little Yuuri was cute, just like you.”

“Little Yuuri got in a _lot_ of trouble that night.” Yuuri corrected him, tapping his nose playfully. “Little Yuuri found the wine casks and drank far too much of it.”

Viktor gasped like a child being given a secret to keep. "Little Yuuri was naughty?" 

Yuuri snorted. "I was a perfectly well-behaved child, but the wine tasted like grape juice and no one was watching me," Yuuri explained, watching the Captain's features twist up into a laugh. "The secondhand stories I was told after that night haunt me to this day."

"What did you do?" Viktor asked with a snorting giggle, very unbecoming of a pirate captain. "I don't believe I've ever seen you drunk before, Yuuuuuuuri."

"For good reason," Yuuri laughed, "I'm a mess when I drink."

Viktor furrowed his brow at the notion. “Nonsense,” he scoffed, burrowing in closer to Yuuri’s side. He was so warm and pliant, like he was made of liquid. Yuuri felt himself growing warmer with the attention, but the need accumulating in his core continued to swell. “Not a mess. You’re too pretty to be a mess.”

There was something painful in that sentiment that Yuuri couldn’t touch. Something about the way Viktor’s eyes grew darker, the way his scent soured, only for a minute. 

“Everyone is a mess.” Yuuri heard himself mumble under his breath, his hand slowly making its way toward the rope of Viktor’s braid, mindlessly playing with the end of it. “No one is exempt from being a mess.”

Viktor hummed noncommittally. “Keep doing that?” he asked, a warm wave of pleased pheromones flooding the room. “I like that.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly and nodded, loosening the tie at the end of his braid. “I can comb it, if you’d like.” Viktor’s smile was so wide and soft it hurt Yuuri’s own cheeks to look at for long. He scrambled out of Yuuri’s arms and into the privy. He returned on wobbly legs with a tortoiseshell comb in hand, pressing it into Yuuri’s palm. 

Yuuri unwound his long silver braid slowly, reverently. His hair was slightly kinked from keeping it in a braid all that time, and the saltwater spray had rendered it tangled in places. Yuuri worked slowly and carefully, listening to the soft sounds Viktor made; every one of them sounded like pleasure and Yuuri knew he was in a dangerous spot. Viktor’s eyes were growing heavy, his breathing was becoming slow.

“Captain,” Yuuri whispered quietly, and a soft mumble of gibberish was his reply. “You forgot to eat your dinner.” He didn’t receive a reply to that.

* * *

It wasn’t long before Viktor was snoring. His mouth was wide open, a small puddle of drool had begun to pool, soaking into Yuuri’s trousers. Viktor was so damned pretty when he slept that it made him squirm. He was too far to ring Cookie’s bell for help, and he feared he would be stuck there, inevitably tumbling toward his heat with Viktor draped over his lap. 

He felt hot everywhere, far too hot for normal embarrassment. The first wave was beginning, and he couldn’t reach himself, let alone bring himself to do anything with the Captain in his lap. He was leaking and his cock had begun to strain against the inside of his pants; he was growing more desperate by the moment. 

A sharp knock at the door nearly made Yuuri jump out of his skin, but he could have kissed Chris’s boots when he walked through the door. 

“Evening, Yuuri, Vik...tor. Oh, oh dear.” Christophe greeted them, his nose twitching and his eyes widening. “It’s starting, isn’t it?” 

Yuuri had never felt more pinned down by a single comment than that. “Yes, I… he’s asleep.”

“I was worried he was hoarding all of your time, _mon ami._ He really is making a mess of things, isn’t he?” Christophe asked, easily striding across the room and tickling a spot behind Viktor’s ear that had him sitting straight up, nearly knocking his forehead into Yuuri’s chin. “Captain. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Viktor groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I was _napping,”_ he rumbled, looking annoyed that Christophe had woken him. “Yuuri was telling me a story, weren’t you, love?” 

Yuuri flushed at the endearment. “I… yes, I was, but I… I need to go.” Christophe gave him a sympathetic look, but was thankfully holding off on the soothing pheromones. Viktor’s lower lip began to quiver and he wrapped his arms firmly around Yuuri’s waist. The touch made him whimper, as Viktor’s hands were brushing his bare skin. 

“No-ooooooo, you can’t go!” Viktor pouted, and Yuuri wondered if he had perhaps stumbled upon the Captain’s twin brother. This petulant child was nothing like the cold, crime-hardened man who had issued him that warning. “Yuuri, you can’t! You have to stay here with me. Please?”

“You can’t make him stay, Viktor.” Christophe intervened with grace, unwrapping Viktor’s arms from Yuuri slowly. “Let him go if he wants to leave.”

Viktor turned those pleading blues on Yuuri, pouting like a puppy begging for table scraps. 

“No, I… I’ll stay,” Yuuri heard himself saying, “It’s okay. I just. I need somewhere safer to sleep.”

Christophe’s eyebrow arched upward, then a wash of understanding crossed his features. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sure the Captain won’t mind you borrowing his bed for your nest, will he?”

Viktor shook his head almost violently. “Not at all! Yuuri can have my bed!” He chirped, scrambling out of Yuuri’s lap and across the room, stripping the bed sloppily. “I’ll even help you make your nest!”

Yuuri fought back a whine at the thought of Viktor doing something so intimate as helping him build his nest. He had never built one with help, let alone help from an alpha. His time at the heathouses had always been sanitized and impersonal, blankets that smelled like laundry soap and were only scented with Yuuri’s own pheromones by the end. But Viktor’s scent?

“Are you sure?” Christophe asked softly as the Captain busied himself with the bed. Yuuri nodded, absently touching the leather collar around his throat. 

“Can you come and… check on us? In the morning?” Yuuri asked, his heart in his throat. He knew that asking another alpha to step into an omega’s den could be difficult; he prayed that Viktor wouldn’t react poorly to it.

“Of course, _mon ami._ I’ll come back in the morning.” Christophe smiled, a tight, careful thing that Yuuri recognized as such. “Vitya,” he used a name that Yuuri had never heard before that caught the Captain’s attention immediately. “Behave.”

Viktor nodded and turned back to the stripped bed, where a lopsided circle of sheets and pillows was taking shape. It was sweet to watch, but still incredibly confusing. What had changed in the past day that warranted such a severe change?

Surely it wasn’t more than the drink. Surely.

Yuuri thanked Christophe silently and he retreated from the room, leaving the two alone again. The cabin was slowly filling with Viktor’s scent, even stronger than before. It was as if the scent was being pushed directly into his nose, wrapping him in it purposefully. 

“Yuuuuuuuri! Come look!” Viktor crooned messily, but no less eagerly. “Look at it!”

Yuuri felt his cheeks grow warm as he turned, wondering if he could slip into that private bathroom tucked into the great cabin’s wall. Anything to alleviate the wetness between his legs. The nest was messy, but Yuuri felt himself pulled into it, in awe of what an alpha had made for him, so selflessly. 

“It’s… it’s wonderful, Viktor. Thank you.” Yuuri praised, watching Viktor’s cheeks flush pink. “You did a lovely job.” 

Viktor was _preening,_ shivering in that way that proud alphas did, but in a way that Yuuri had only read of in books. Romantic heroes and loving mates, careful, soft people who tended to their partners. The difference between this Captain and the Captain Yuuri had known before was stark and confusing. 

“Thank you, do you like it?” Viktor asked, patting the bed in a clear invitation. There was a softness to his question, a tenderness to it. 

Yuuri measured his answer carefully. There was a pillow out of place, and the weaving wasn’t _quite_ up to his usual standard, but those things could easily be fixed. It looked soft and cozy, and with a few articles of Alpha’s clothing, it would be perfect. 

_Alpha’s clothing?_

He barely had time to question himself before a wave of pain hit, a cramp clenched in his core, signalling the first stages of his heat. He whimpered and made his way to bed, pulled in by the scent of pleased alpha, by the nest piled on top of that soft mattress and curled into it gratefully. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice sounded concerned. Worried. 

“I’m okay, it’s fine,” Yuuri huffed in a rush as another cramp hit him. It nearly knocked the wind from his chest. “I like the nest, it’s perfect, thank you.” He complimented in a labored breath. “Can you… I need-” He had barely managed the request before Viktor was perched on the edge of the bed, pushing out a strong wave of scent. 

Without even asking, Viktor had known. _This drunk,_ he had known what Yuuri needed. He whined again, that familiar need bubbling over. Everything was too much, all at once, everywhere, and Yuuri ached between his legs; he was painfully hard and the brush of his pants over his cock felt like being stroked with sand. His throat burned under his collar, his omega was screaming to let Viktor take him then, in that messy nest. 

“Do you want me to… turn around? I won’t look, you’re… you’re hurting.” Viktor asked, another strong wave of calming scent rushing into Yuuri’s nose. “You need to make yourself feel good, I… I won’t disturb you, I’m so sorry,” he babbled until Yuuri interrupted with another sharp cry. 

“Yes, please,” he managed, “I’m sorry.” Yuuri choked on a truly embarrassing whine and rolled onto his side, shoving his pants down around his ass. His hand burned against his too-sensitive flesh, the pain was only barely soothed by Viktor’s scent wrapping around him.

Yuuri came with a stifled sob, his shoulders trembling with it. 

The bed dipped behind him with Viktor’s return. “A washcloth, if you’d like it.” he offered quietly, before the bed shifted again. Yuuri listened to his footsteps as he moved away from the bed, the creak of leather signalling that Viktor had given Yuuri enough space to move and adjust without being seen. 

A damp washcloth sat in a basin beside the bed and Yuuri gratefully used it, wiping away the come and slick covering his skin. He felt himself torn, in equal measures craving Viktor’s touch, his closeness, his warmth and glad he was being left alone. It was what he deserved, after all, to be lonely. To be alone. 

Right?

An uncomfortable rumbling in Yuuri's stomach pulled him from sleep not much later. He had definitely missed his own dinner. The rations aboard the _Stammi_ weren’t unlike what Yuuri had been used to with Tobias, and missing a meal had his stomach rolling. Sea life offered no room for excess, especially when it came to food. Yuuri blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the low light. The darkness around him was warm and comforting, the mingled smells of cedar, cherry and his own arousal hung heavy in the air. 

Exhaustion was threatening to pull him under already, his legs felt heavy and weighed down, and his heat hadn’t truly begun yet. The memory of Viktor’s drunk, moony eyes staring into his as that first wave hit sank like a rock in his stomach. Viktor had _seen_ that. The Captain had _seen_ that. 

And he had been kind.

He tried to ignore the empty nest beside him, the absence of the person whose scent he had drowned himself in earlier that night was painfully clear. He would have to make do with his laundry, his pillow, the blanket he had left behind. Viktor was still sleeping on the couch, snoring loudly. Yuuri hoped he would be able to sleep off his hangover.

Yuuri pushed himself out of bed before he could think more about the absence, his attention drawn by something much more appetizing. Another scent drifted into his nose, the dinner he had brought for the Captain. It still sat, covered on the table where he had left it. His heat would undoubtedly arrive by morning, and he wasn't too keen on starting on an empty stomach. Things were already shaping up horribly as it was.

The smell of salted meat and potatoes greeted his nose like an old friend and his mouth watered embarrassingly, even if it had cooled by now. When he reached the table, he saw it: a small white card leaned against the covered plate, stark in the dark of the room. Yuuri strained to read it, holding it up in the limited moonlight of the cloudy night.

His name, scripted in the Captain's hand, marked it as a clear note for him. He flipped the card open, slowly reading the message inside.

_Yuuri,_

_I am very sorry that I didn't give you time to eat. Please, have my dinner. I hope we can talk things through in the morning over breakfast, if your heat allows for it._

_Thank you for spending the evening with me. I truly appreciate your company._

~~_Captain Niki_ ~~ _Viktor_

_P.S._

_I am also very sorry I called you the wrong name earlier. That was incredibly rude and I hope you can forgive me._

Now? Forgive him _now_? Of all things to apologize for, he chose to apologize for calling him the wrong name? What a truly remarkable feat of ignorance. His behavior had been erratic and secretive, leaving Yuuri without understanding more often than not. Yuuri felt his anger boiling over. 

Viktor had left him a note. He had assumed he would be leaving in the middle of the night. Why else would he do such a thing? Where did he get off, assuming he would try to sneak out without a goodbye? Without thanking himt? He had given Yuuri his bed to sleep in for the night. How could Yuuri be so rude as to refuse the gift?

Yuuri angrily chewed a bite of ham, barely savoring the delicious smoky flavor before immediately apologizing to Cookie in his mind. He had been curing the ham for months.

He finished the meal in conflicted silence as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Perhaps he wasn’t assuming Yuuri would run. Maybe the Captain knew that he would be hungry after missing a meal. Maybe the Captain was just trying to care for him. 

After the food was gone, he settled back into bed, his mind wandered as he continued to re-read the Captain's dancing script. He took a deep breath of the scents thick in the air, purring at the smell of satisfied alpha, even if it was Viktor. 

Yuuri shuddered at the memory of the Captain’s lips on his own, the light, glancing touch of his long fingers, the way he had fallen asleep, curled up in Yuuri’s lap. It was all far too tender for Yuuri to manage, but the memory of his soft, bitten-off moans, the sight of his cock tenting his pants… all of it had his omega aching to let the Captain have his way with him. A sharp pang of need rolled over him; he could feel it buzzing under his skin.

Maybe he could stay. Just for the night. At least until his heat forced him below deck again, only a dark corner of the floor to nest and his own hands to help him through. _Maybe I could share my heat with the Captain,_ his mind supplied, and Yuuri found he wasn’t pushing the thought away as he drifted back to sleep. It was a pleasant thought, if nothing else. It was enough to help him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two: the heat begins next week! stay tuned c;
> 
> <3 ia  
> (the next chapter is already available, follow my twitter link to find out where!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri makes a choice and does not regret it.

Yuuri woke the next morning unbearably hot, sweat beading at his hairline and in the small of his back, where the sheets clung to his skin uncomfortably. The scent of his Captain filled his nostrils and set his burning skin on fire again. Heat was emanating from his core, his cock was surprisingly hard for just now waking up.

The instinct was too heady to ignore, and Yuuri pushed his hand into his pants again, dancing over his own flesh with a soft moan. His heat had fully begun, but that haziness hadn’t yet set in. All that clouded his mind was sleepy grogginess, the kind that hadn’t found him in years.

How long had it been since he had last slept so well, so soundly during a heat? 

He felt his chest rumbling with a purr as he palmed himself, stretching languorously in his soft nest. His orgasm was already fast approaching, as orgasms usually did during his heats, but for once, Yuuri found himself savoring the sensations of it. He was loose and warm from sleep, and Viktor’s scent was thick around him. He let out a soft moan, a quiet mewl no louder than a yawn. 

His other hand moved slowly up his chest, cupping his breast tenderly and moaning again as his thumb brushed over his nipple. Everything was heightened, everything was sensitive, and for the first time in years, he enjoyed it. His hips bucked upward into his hand and a high, whining moan fell from his lips- it was too much to contain, too much to stifle.

“ _Please,"_ Yuuri sobbed in his first language, rubbing his wrist against his collared throat in the vain hope of recreating the sensation of being scented. “ _Please, so close!”_

The thick scent of alpha pheromones flooded into his nose and he came with a bitten-off cry, his body unraveling with a flash of heat and force like a lightning strike. He was left panting for breath, his cock still hard and proud between his legs. He groaned, his sore throat protesting the sound with a hoarse cough. Yuuri knew without a doubt that his heat had finally arrived. It explained the morning erection, the feverish warmth of his skin, and such a quick orgasm....

“It’s here, isn’t it?” Viktor asked, and his voice nearly had Yuuri jumping out of his skin with fright. He had completely forgotten that it was Viktor’s bed he had commandeered, and had been fucking himself in for the past few minutes. He flushed deeply and wrapped himself in a loose sheet, unraveling one of the walls of his nest. He hated to see the safe, secure circle fall, but his below-the-belt situation was of higher priority. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Viktor apologized, his voice floating toward him from the couch. Had he been watching? How long had he been standing there, shifting from one foot to the other? He looked either queasy or nervous, and Yuuri wasn’t sure which would have been preferable. Yuuri nodded slowly, still letting himself float back to earth. He was still hard and his pants were now thoroughly soiled, and Viktor was standing there, just looking at him. 

Viktor kept his distance, and it was clear that he was doing so intentionally. Yuuri could see Viktor’s nostrils flaring, pulling in his scent like a fish that needed water. 

“‘S okay,” Yuuri mumbled, shrinking into his small pile of sheets and pillows. “Were you… how long? What did you see?”

Viktor’s cheeks ran bright red. “Nothing! I wouldn’t, not without… I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that.” he scrambled for his words and Yuuri felt himself growing even more embarrassed. The heat haze hadn’t begun to sink in yet, and he was glad for it. The thoughts had been swirling all night… what he had imagined the night before, of sharing his heat with the Captain. He could scarcely believe that he was having the thought, but it was far better than the alternative. 

“Captain?” Yuuri asked, at the same time that Viktor spoke his name. 

“You… you can go first,” Yuuri conceded, doing his best not to reach out and pull Viktor into the messy nest with him. The longer the idea lingered in his mind, the more sure of it he became. 

“Yuuri, would you like me to arrange for a heat companion to help you?” Viktor asked softly, and Yuuri’s nose was hit by the clear melancholy of Viktor’s scent. 

He physically recoiled from Viktor’s words, sinking further into the bed. “No, no no no, don’t want that,” he babbled, something instinctive and terrified taking over him for a moment. “Don’t want a stranger, no.” 

Viktor’s eyes went wide and Yuuri couldn’t discern whether it was fear or shock. “I… alright, I don’t really know how I would obtain one anyway.” Viktor laughed self-deprecatingly. “We’re already two days off shore.” He ran a hand through his sleep-tangled hair, the braid having fallen loose at some point during the night. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in any distress.”

Yuuri felt his heart rabbiting in his chest then, and realized how upset he smelled. He was pushing out wave after wave of bitter, sour distress. “I… no, I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly, pulling the sheet up over his head to hide, to burrow, to nest even further into safety and away from embarrassment. “Rude of me.”

Yuuri felt the bed dip near his feet, Viktor’s frame sinking into the mattress. “Do you want me to ask Chris? I’m sure he’d-”

“ _No!”_ Yuuri sat bolt-upright, throwing the sheet back. “Not Chris!” He bit his tongue at the words he wanted to say, _“I want you,”_ simply refused to fall from his tongue. Viktor’s eyes were wide and confused, his fist clenched tight in the downy pillow top. 

“Okay, alright,” Viktor assured him in a quiet voice. Yuuri liked that voice, it was nice, soft. The knock on the cabin door, however, was not nice, and not soft. Yuuri recoiled at the sound and bit back a hiss; someone was trying to come into his den and he was very unhappy about that prospect. 

Yuuri smelled him before the door was even open, the first mate looked just as bedraggled as Viktor was. His hair was messy and his goatee was yet untrimmed; hazel eyes darted between Yuuri, in bed, and Viktor, who had opened the door for him. 

“Christophe,” Viktor regarded him carefully, and Yuuri could feel the clash of their pheromones like a physical rumble of thunder. There was something protective about Chris’s usually floral scent, and something possessive lingering in Viktor’s. “Wonderful timing, we were just talking about you.”

Chris smiled carefully, nodding. “I knew my ears were ringing for a reason,” he teased, moving to step into the room, but Viktor took a half step into his path. That rumbling grew louder in Yuuri’s ears and the fog of pheromones grew denser. 

“Captain.” Yuuri’s voice spoke without him, “Let him in.” 

The reaction was instant; Viktor stepped backward and Christophe entered, taking confident strides across the cabin. Yuuri felt heard in a way he never had before, the way Viktor reacted to his demand made him feel strong. 

“Is everything okay, _mon ami?_ ” Christophe asked, and Yuuri nodded. 

“I’m fine,” Yuuri answered, “We’re okay.” Viktor was still standing nearby, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel seen, protected. “Thank you.”

Christophe nodded, smiling warmly. “Have you thought about where you’d like to nest?” he asked, and Yuuri couldn’t help but flush. “The Captain and I will be happy to make accommodations for you wherever you’d like.”

Yuuri bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. “I… I like it here,” Yuuri said softly, meeting Viktor’s eye and shuddering at the thought of what he wasn’t saying. “It’s warm, and soft.”

Christophe nodded again, patting Yuuri’s shoulder through the sheet tangled around his form. “Alright. Captain? Let’s go get you comfortable in my cabin then.”

Yuuri’s stomach dropped to his feet at the expression on Viktor’s face, the forlorn resignation. “Wait, what?” He heard himself objecting without thinking. 

“I have an extra bunk in my cabin, it would be best for you to be alone, would it not?” Chris asked, the confusion clear on his face. “We’ll have someone posted at the door, of course, we wouldn’t dream of leaving you unguarded.”

“Yes, of course,” Viktor continued, the rejection thick in his voice. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yuuri felt something tear in his chest as Viktor moved to leave. The room was far too large without him, the warmth of the cabin was escaping and Yuuri felt the tears come unbidden. 

“No, please,” his voice sounded too small, too distant. “Don’t leave.”

Both men turned on their heels to face him again, equally as shocked as one another. “What?” Viktor asked, barely louder than a whisper. “Yuuri. What did you say?”

“Don’t go.” Yuuri said with confidence. He felt himself writhing with another wave of heat, the desperation he had been denying, the attraction and longing he had felt the night before, and those first nights in the tavern, all of it came rushing back. “Don’t leave, stay. I want you to stay.”

Both Viktor and Christophe had frozen in place, it seemed that both of them were equally struck by the suddenness of Yuuri’s demand. Yuuri himself was surprised. He hadn’t intended to ask, having given up on the thought of it. But faced with the possibility of being alone, of another heat without the warmth of Viktor’s scent, the company of Viktor’s touch, his kiss… he couldn’t stand another moment of denial. 

“Stay. Take care of me.” Yuuri pleaded, reaching out with his scent. “Don’t go.” Feeling his heart race, battering the inside of his ribcage, Yuuri flushed bright red. His scent was screaming of unbonded omega, and the begging surely only made things seem worse, more desperate. 

There was a long pause, a thick, heady thing that clung to them like humid summer air. Yuuri wondered if he had miscalculated, if he had misread the signs. Surely Viktor wouldn’t stay, how could he? Yuuri was barely more than a liability borrowing his cabin for a few days, nothing more. Viktor’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Yuuri felt himself grow hot with embarrassment.

“Truly?” Viktor asked after a moment, his eyes were blown wide as if he didn’t believe Yuuri’s request. “You would really ask me to join you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri offered hesitantly, his fists clenched tight in the sheets. “I… I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.” Yuuri could hear the rumble in Viktor’s chest from across the room and hope began to rise in his heart. “Captain, will you share my heat with me?” 

“Gods, yes,” Viktor breathed, his excitement barely contained in his scent. Yuuri could smell it, the warm burst of cedary joy.

Viktor and Christophe shared a wordless look and the first mate bowed out of the cabin, giving Yuuri one last sympathetic look. Yuuri could barely focus on anything other than Viktor, other than his scent, his presence, the sudden shift in their dynamic. Things were different now, in a way that was difficult to discern. The tension was thick and heady like fog, but he felt Viktor’s interest tugging him in like the tide pulling the waves back out to sea. 

The boards creaked under Viktor’s feet, poorly hiding Yuuri’s shallow, panting breaths. 

Viktor leaned over the barrier of Yuuri’s messy nest, nuzzled into the meeting of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder, where his scent gland lay, swollen and pulsing, underneath his collar. Yuuri moaned into the contact, the short, huffed breaths bringing a flush to his skin again.

“Yuuri, you smell _divine,_ ” The rumbly vibrations against Yuuri’s chest had him humming happily into Viktor’s hair. 

“Thank you.” Yuuri murmured, lavishing in the sensation of being scented, losing himself in it. Even through his collar, the attention was perfect in every way. Viktor moved slowly, carefully, leaving his mark all over Yuuri until there was no longer a difference in their scents, irrevocably tangled together into one. “Join me.”

Viktor sighed as if he had been holding his breath all along. He nodded and carefully climbed over the walls of the nest, sliding into Yuuri’s space like it had been created for him. Maybe it had, Yuuri’s mind offered quietly as Viktor made himself comfortable, lying on his side and draping a long, strong arm over Yuuri’s stomach. 

“Thank you for letting me share this with you,” Viktor whispered, nosing at Yuuri’s hairline with the tenderness Yuuri had been craving. “Thank you. So much.”

Yuuri wanted the Captain to kiss him more than he wanted to breathe at the moment. Both of their scents were tinted with arousal, and it was strong enough to make Yuuri dizzy; he met Viktor's eyes, the ocean blues blown wide with desire. Viktor’s nostrils flared, the tendon above his scent gland flexing with the intensity of his inhale. Yuuri knew the scent was seeping into the Captain’s blood, and he was too far gone to care.

“I’ve imagined so many times what it’s like to touch you, Yuuri.” Viktor’s voice dropped dangerously low, nearly growling the words. “I’ve imagined what you taste like, what kinds of pleasure I could provide…” 

“C-Captain,” Yuuri’s omega betrayed him then, a poorly-stifled moan escaping his lips. He couldn’t ignore the pull any longer. He pushed the last remainders of his fear aside. “Please.”

Viktor moved in the blink of an eye, he took Yuuri’s face in his hands and kissed him. Viktor was releasing his musky scent in clouds; it was thoroughly possessive, but Yuuri didn't mind at all. He was swimming in his favorite scent.

Yuuri lost himself in the kiss, their lips moving together in some intricate dance Yuuri was only now learning. He was intoxicating. Yuuri could feel the Captain’s swelling harness against his hip, and found himself grinding into it, pulling a strained groan from Viktor’s throat. Strong hands moved from Yuuri’s cheeks to his shoulders, tracing delicate lines down his stomach and around to his wide hips, toying with the waist of his trousers.

“May I?”

Yuuri nodded gently.

He pulled at the drawstring of the roughspun trousers Yuuri wore, loosening them and pushing them down completely. Yuuri pulled his cotton shirt over his shoulders, exposing the rest of his body to the Captain's inspection. Yuuri allowed his arms to relax, dropping them to his sides to reveal his lean body, every muscle and tendon now in the open for the Captain to judge. 

Sunlight danced across Yuuri’s flushed skin, gooseflesh raising every fine hair on end. The hunger in Viktor’s eyes held him motionless, keeping him cemented in place. Viktor looked Yuuri up and down, intently studying every inch of his body. He was inspecting every dip and curve, every soft swell of flesh. Yuuri squirmed under the attention, but still his arousal grew ever higher.

The familiar fire in his belly had begun to burn at his closeness, fueled by the now-familiar mix of heat and want. The wet sensation of slick between his cheeks coaxed a throaty whine from the omega, nearly begging to be claimed. Warm hands danced over his skin, Viktor’s lips blazing winding paths over his skin as he drew closer.

The sweet smell of his slick reached the Captain’s nose, met with flared nostrils and already-dilated pupils blown even wider, nearly erasing all the blue from the irises.

“Beautiful, so beautiful.” Viktor crooned, before motioning for Yuuri to make himself comfortable. 

Yuuri propped himself up on his elbows in his nest, now even messier in the massive expanse of the bed. His mouth ran dry watching the notorious Captain Nikiforov disrobe.

As if he were putting on a show for Yuuri, Viktor loosened the lacing of his shirt slowly, revealing his toned physique. The lack of tattoos was refreshing, as it seemed every sailor aboard the Stammi Vicino had at least three or four. The Captain was firm and strong from the years at sea, a handful of long, pale scars crossed his skin in messy lines. A sweet, thin line of silver hair traced the line between his abdominal muscles led Yuuri’s eyes down to the waistline of his black trousers.

His fingers made quick work of his trousers’ laces, peeling off the tight linen. Yuuri’s omega was soaring with the attention Viktor was giving him. It had been silently begging to be claimed by the alpha, despite the still-roaring storm of doubt and confusion whirling in his mind. The two sides of him warred inside him, but the pull of his heat could no longer be ignored. 

Viktor finished disrobing and Yuuri couldn't help but stare at the man before him. He was somehow larger without the coat, even larger than he had expected. He had to be at least a head taller than the omega. But his cock, that was exactly what he had expected, if not larger. It was thick and long, full and too heavy to stand on its own. 

The crown was partially hidden by soft folds of foreskin, a bead of precome just about to drip to the old floorboards. Yuuri felt slick seeping into the mattress below him, and more of his scent released into the air. This pulled a low moan from Viktor as he crossed the room, so low it almost sounded like a growl. In a moment, Viktor was on him, pressing Yuuri’s shoulders back into the mattress. 

Yuuri’s surprised yelp called Viktor’s rational mind forward, eyes snapping back to the ocean blue Yuuri remembered from the tavern. No longer made of ice, as they had been that first night, but of warm, tropical waters, bursting with life and hidden depths to be discovered.

“Are you sure about this? We can stop if you are uncomfortable…” the Captain questioned in a strained voice. Yuuri nodded, smiling at the return of a Captain he recognized… at least while he was sober. “Can I hear you say it? Please?” The words hurried and desperate.

“Yes, Captain. Please.” An ease settled in Yuuri's mind, measured equally with confusion at the Captain's sudden concern for his consent. Either way, Yuuri needed this. He needed the Captain. He tucked his rational self away, calling his omega to the front, eager to let the sensations rush over him like the tide.

The heat of the Captain’s body had Yuuri melting, boiled down to basic instinct, mewling and purring with his touch. He was painfully hard, but that didn't matter. All his omega needed was to be filled. Viktor kneeled between Yuuri’s thighs, crooning a low, rumbling 'thank you' and sliding a finger into his clutching heat with no resistance. More low moans rumbled from the Captain’s throat, matching Yuuri’s needy, breathless whines as he trembled beneath him.

“Please, more. Gods, more, please…” Yuuri chanted, need coiling hot in his core, anticipation climbing higher.

“As you wish.” Viktor murmured into the skin of his inner thigh, following with a smoldering kiss to the soft flesh. He pressed another long finger into Yuuri’s hole, the movement eased by an embarrassing amount of slick. Yuuri gasped, clenching hard around his fingers. Viktor chuckled softly and retaliated with a playful bite to the skin he’d been kissing. Yuuri squeaked at the teasing pain, but it quickly melted to bliss as Viktor began to suck and pull at the delicate skin there. A deep purple bruise would be blossoming there by morning and the thought encouraged a rush of slick from him.

Viktor’s cock was full and throbbing, leaking pearly precome into the sheets between his thighs. “Gods above, Yuuri…” He moaned softly, crooking his fingers upward in the way that Yuuri had never been able to do on his own; Yuuri responded with a wrecked sob, his hips leaping off the bed, his thick thighs clenched tight and strong.

“Alpha, I, there, _please_ there!” Yuuri choked, feeling his cock twitching with the urge to spend, his voice cracking and breaking as Viktor stroked him there, that unthinkably pleasurable place inside him. 

“Are you going to come, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, his lip pulled between his teeth, his other hand resting firmly on Yuuri’s hip. “Do you like the way this feels?” Yuuri’s lust-addled mind could barely understand Viktor’s low, rumbling whispers, but the sound of it made his omega purr.

Yuuri was shaking, his limbs trembling as he neared that familiar precipice, though never had he been brought there by another’s hands— only ever his own hand around himself or Hisashi fucking into him in the depths of his heats. Gods, he wanted to come, but not before…

“N-no, wait,” Yuuri gasped, worming away from Viktor’s touch. “I want… you inside me.” 

Viktor immediately pulled away, gripping himself tightly at the base of his length. “Savior of all,” he shuddered under his breath, “Anything for you, Yuuri, I swear it.” After a moment, Viktor adjusted himself, kneeling between Yuuri’s spread thighs, smeared slick glistening against his skin. “Are you ready?” Viktor asked, half-lidded eyes heavy and desperate, his cheeks flushed dark.

“Y-yes, gods, please,” Viktor lined up, and Yuuri shuddered slightly at the heat of Viktor’s cockhead against his hole. Yuuri moaned into the stretch as Viktor breached him; it burned in a new but familiar way. Viktor sank in slowly, allowing Yuuri to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Alpha…” Yuuri whimpered, gripping at Viktor’s shoulders desperately. He felt himself shaking, the pleasure of it threatening to tear him apart. “Alpha, I…”

“May I move?” Came the gentle request at the shell of Yuuri’s ear. Unable to coordinate his mouth to his mind, Yuuri nodded, eyes blearily focused on Viktor’s features above him.

Viktor moaned and set his pace, a slow roll of his hips that had Yuuri’s skin singing with sensation. The drag of Viktor inside him was hot and perfect and made Yuuri’s mind spin, everything honing in on where Viktor was touching him. Nothing else mattered, or possibly ever would again; all that mattered was Viktor, wrapped around Yuuri in that bed. The two moaned in harmony with one another, the Captain’s bed groaned with the activity. 

Yuuri’s hands found their way around Viktor’s shoulders, fingertips interlacing behind his neck. He buried his nose in the crook of Viktor’s throat, inhaling the musky scent right from the source. His nose burned with the effort of it, breathing as though he were trying to inhale the very essence of the alpha. The head of Viktor’s cock glanced that spot again and had him seeing stars, screaming with equal measures of pleasure and shock. 

The tightness coiled behind Yuuri’s navel curled tighter and tighter, impossibly tighter until he knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

White exploded behind Yuuri’s eyes, high-pitched ringing filled his ears. The strongest orgasm he’d ever experienced gripped him and wrung him dry. His cock spurted on his stomach, he could feel his hole clenching on the thickness ramming into him, the beginning of a knot swelling at the base. 

His hearing slowly returned as Viktor’s ragged moans filled his ears, again speaking in his native tongue. The harsh syllables flowed like sand over river rock, somehow hard and soft at the same time. He heard his name, moaned among the foreign words falling from Viktor’s tongue. He had no time to savor the thought before Viktor was coming too, growling and panting, his cock pulsing as he filled Yuuri, burst after burst of come flooding into him.

Viktor’s knot slipped in, aided by the slippery combination of come and slick, swelling to lock the two together. Blissed out and exhausted, Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed as Viktor collapsed over him, completely surrounding him with his alpha’s scent. His inner omega now sated and quieting, Yuuri hummed contentedly. He was the perfect image of subservience and he knew it; rosy cheeks, flushed from the throat down, thoroughly claimed by his alpha.

Fingertip-shaped bruises on his hips, a dark love bite blooming between his legs, Yuuri let himself drift like that, claimed by the man he had been craving for so long, the man he still knew so little of. Something quiet in the back of his mind was still unsure, still worried, still anxious. But he let himself be held for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the smut begins, my friends. find out how to read ahead in my pinned tweet, click the link below!
> 
> <3 ia


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interruptions, insurrection, and displays of power. (and vulnerability.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence and minor character death.

Viktor woke in the late afternoon to find himself uncomfortably sticky between his thighs, though nothing in the world would pull him away from the tender vision curled up in his arms; Yuuri, his mouth slightly open, his cheeks flushed and warm, was still sleeping soundly. 

He couldn’t fight the urge to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead, earning a soft, pleased hum in reply. They stayed there for a while, Viktor feeling as though he was on borrowed time, being allowed the gift of watching over Yuuri as he slept. He had barely managed to sleep in the gap between the morning’s activity and now, fear lurked in the inky dark of his mind every time he closed his eyes. 

Surely those treacherous few had noticed his absence by now… something cold and heavy sank in the pit of Viktor’s stomach at the thought. Memories of past rebellions rose like bile in his throat and he fought to keep his breath even. He couldn’t let the fear control him now, not when Yuuri was in his care. Yuuri needed him, and that was more important than any of Viktor’s own inadequacies. He swallowed down the memories and pushed Yuuri’s hair out of his eyes, watching his inky eyelashes flutter. 

“You’re incredible, darling.” Viktor whispered into Yuuri’s hairline, freezing as Yuuri’s expression shifted, his nose wrinkling up as he stirred. Yuuri yawned, his brown eyes blinking open slowly. Sleep still clung to his vision, clouding it like a fog. There was a moment of hesitation, and Viktor held perfectly still; perhaps he thought it was just as surprising as he did, that they had, at least, been able to manage one important conversation.

“Mmm, morning Captain,” Yuuri said quietly, his lips curling upward in a soft, sleepy smile. Viktor’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Good afternoon, Yuuri.” Viktor corrected with a gentle laugh. “You weren’t asleep for  _ that _ long.” 

Yuuri flushed. “It’s a little hard to keep track of time.”

“I know, don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for.” Viktor soothed in reply, nosing against Yuuri’s cheek. “Did you have a nice nap?” Yuuri nodded, something unsaid clearly tugging at his tongue as he examined Viktor’s features. Viktor hummed, encouraging Yuuri to say what he wasn’t. 

“I’m glad you’re here… to take care of me. Thank you, Captain.” Yuuri said softly, tracing fingertips along the sharp jut of the Captain’s jawline, following the hard line of bone to his chin, darting underneath and outlining the fullness of his lips. Viktor let himself melt into the touch, feeling his alpha preening with the brush of Yuuri’s fingers. 

Yuuri looked up through thick black lashes and tilted his head slightly to the right, offering his neck. Viktor’s alpha beamed with pride at the offer, a smile curled his lips up in one corner.

Viktor dipped down to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin he could reach, coaxing small, pleased noises from Yuuri. Though he had thoroughly enjoyed the experience of their rushed, desperate mating earlier, seeing Yuuri’s eyes shutter closed with this kind of slow, languid pleasure was undeniably sensual. His Yuuri was the very definition of it, soft and sensuous with his dark hair dancing so delicately over caramel-colored eyes. The encapsulation of sex itself, Eros in form and fashion.

“Gods, Yuuri. You are irresistible… so beautiful. I can barely believe you’re mine.” Viktor whispered against his throat, pushing away the thoughts that his own words brought up.  _ Only for now. _ “Will you do one thing for me?”

“Anything for you, Captain,” Yuuri replied, struggling to bring the words to his tongue under the heat of Viktor’s mouth so close to his scent gland. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“In this cabin, on this side of that door,” Viktor nodded at the heavy door securing their den, “Please, call me Viktor.” His possessiveness was surging, the haze of his rut settling like a fire in his stomach. The kisses against Yuuri’s skin grew manic, adding teeth to the previously gentle suckling. More moans fell out of Yuuri’s mouth, slick sliding between his cheeks. Shuddering gasps accompanied the wet noise of lips against skin, Viktor almost struggled keeping Yuuri from squirming under his touch. Yuuri’s neck was turning a beautiful mosaic of reds and purples, lovebites smattered around the black leather of his collar. 

“Viktor,  _ gods _ , Vik-tor, please, more, need more,” Yuuri babbled, words falling over each other, fighting to be the first to his Alpha’s ear. He was grinding his hips against nothing again, his cock red and begging for attention.

“Ready again already?” Viktor purred, pupils blown wide, breath hot against Yuuri’s throat.

“P-please, Viktor, need it. Need you,” Yuuri cried, already wrecked from the deliberate work Viktor had been doing on his sensitive skin.

Viktor pulled away, one eyebrow quirked up on his forehead. “You’ll have me, Yuuri,” Viktor crooned, shifting his weight back down to the bed and holding Yuuri’s gaze as he stood up and padded to the foot of the bed. “May I taste you, love?” He asked, crawling between the omega’s bent legs, easily bending himself over Yuuri’s frame to meet his lips in a tender kiss.

“Yes, please, Alpha.” Yuuri squeaked when they broke apart, his voice wrecked once again. More gentle kisses traced their way down from his lips to the soft underside of his jaw, the crest of his collarbones, the dip between his breasts and straying to kiss at each of his nipples, hardening with anticipation. 

Viktor’s tongue danced a teasing routine across the dusky pink flesh; he pulled each of them into his mouth and flicked at them with his tongue, dragging his teeth across each nub just lightly enough to make Yuuri squirm. He released them and continued his journey south, stopping to dip his tongue into his navel. He gasped and moaned at the similarity of the action to a certain other action, and that thought brought a fresh burst of slick to the meeting of Yuuri’s thighs. Viktor chuckled as he pressed downward again, his kisses stopping just short of the fine hair at the root of his cock.

“P-please, Viktor, your mouth, so hot, please…” Yuuri chanted, begging Viktor to continue. How could he possibly refuse such a polite request? 

He planted a kiss at the very base of Yuuri’s cock, licking and sucking at the delicate skin below it, moving ever downward to pull more tender flesh into his mouth. Those small machinations of his tongue dragged high-pitched squeaks from Yuuri, who had undoubtedly never experienced anything like this before.

“More there, more there please, Alpha,” came the begging request to continue; Yuuri was barely coherent, blissed out and drunk on Viktor’s pheromones. Viktor fulfilled the request with delight, groaning at the sweet scent that was so dense in the space between the omega’s legs. With Yuuri’s head thrown back and his eyes closed, Viktor snaked his hand to the wet heat between his cheeks, gently pushing a finger through the ring of muscle, thrusting in time with the strokes of his tongue. 

Yuuri’s moans rang in Viktor’s ears and his cock throbbed between his legs. Viktor crooned his pleasure at Yuuri’s sounds, pulling away to focus his attention on Yuuri’s straining length. He was barely holding on, one fist clenched tight in the bedsheets and the other buried in Viktor’s hair, holding him precisely where he was.

Viktor swallowed Yuuri’s cock to the root, the entire length of it sliding down his throat with ease. Yuuri screamed the endless refrain of his first language with ‘Alpha’ thrown in every other word. Viktor didn’t know the words, but the sound of it pulled a pleased growl from his chest. He pressed another finger to Yuuri’s clutching heat, now dripping with slick and clenching with his every stuttering breath. 

Viktor’s tongue traced the faint veins in Yuuri’s skin, rolling the sensitive head around gently, sucking and pulling at the foreskin. All of him tasted divine, especially here where precome and the salt of his skin was headiest. When Viktor added a third and fourth finger, Yuuri’s hips thrust his cock up into his mouth, and dropped back down onto the long fingers of his right hand, crying out Viktor’s name. 

Viktor felt a strong pang of need coiling in his gut; the sight of Yuuri fucking himself on both ends had him growling deep in his chest. He was so beautiful like this, totally lost in the sensations of it, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. Yuuri’s thrusts grew panicked and frantic, his moans pitched higher and higher, breaking as he surrendered to it. 

Viktor pulled off of Yuuri’s wet cock and pulled out his fingers, gathering the slick there to glide onto his own cock. Yuuri sobbed at the loss of contact, his hips leaping off the bed to chase the sensations he had lost.

“So empty,” Yuuri complained breathlessly, his mouth open and panting. Viktor leaned down and planted a messy kiss on Yuuri’s bitten lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Yuuri met him inch for inch and surged forward greedily, moaning into his mouth and bucking his hips forward. He strained to reach for Viktor’s cock where it hung heavily between his legs, a wordless request to be filled. 

“In me,” Yuuri gasped when he touched him, realizing that he could only barely touch his fingers around the girth of it. “In me now.” He demanded, the authoritative tone quickly undermined by the whining sound he made as Viktor pressed against him, pushing him into the mattress.

“Is that what you want, Yuuri?” Viktor chuckled into Yuuri’s wet mouth. “You want me  _ in you _ ?” Viktor mirrored, nosing at the line of Yuuri’s jaw and dancing a hand between them once again, stroking Yuuri with devastating accuracy.

“Please, Alpha, fuck me,” Yuuri begged, his eyes screwed tight with restraint, as if Viktor filling him was the only thing he wanted to reach his bliss. Yuuri wormed his way out of Viktor’s grip and turned around to face the head of the bed, canting his hips up and back. He was submitting and presenting, a long string of slick dripping from his hole. The display settled heavy in the pit of Viktor’s core, his arousal coiling tighter and tighter.

“Oh darling, that’s what you want, is it? You want Alpha to  _ fuck  _ you?” He added a sharp emphasis on the word. Yuuri could only nod his assent, too far gone in bliss to make use of any language skills. Viktor steadied himself, a guiding hand at the base of his cock to ease himself into Yuuri’s body.

“Then let your Alpha  _ fuck  _ this little hole.” Viktor sank in to the hilt at the word, punctuated by a choked scream and trembling limbs. Viktor’s hands were made to hold Yuuri’s hips and fuck into him like this, his body was so perfectly permitting of Viktor’s cock; the squeeze of Yuuri’s ass around him was divine, and the glide nearly separated Viktor’s soul from his body. The tightness behind his navel heralded a soon-coming end. Yuuri was moaning and throwing his hips back into his pelvis as Viktor found his pace, punishing and possessive.

The bed shook with Viktor’s thrusts, skin slapping against skin where they were joined. Yuuri was falling apart underneath him, and the spasms of the muscle around Viktor’s cock were a telltale sign that Yuuri would be coming soon too. He snaked an arm around Yuuri, pulling him to lean up against his chest. Yuuri’s legs were quaking, his breaths came in ragged cries, his pleasure-wracked body unable to hold up his own weight. 

Viktor took his cock in one hand, gave it a slick tug and Yuuri came with a scream. Come spilled over Viktor’s fist as Yuuri’s shuddering breaths tangled with messy, overwhelmed sobs. Viktor chased his own release, soaking in Yuuri’s heat as he leaned against his chest. His knot began to swell as his orgasm finally crested, deep and slow like rolling thunder; Viktor let out a low, possessive growl as he claimed his omega inside and out. 

Yuuri’s moans quieted as Viktor’s knot caught inside him, having finally gotten the release he needed. The two had barely noticed the sun setting, time distorted as it was in their little den.

It was late into the night when Yuuri woke again, Viktor dozing quietly beside him. Viktor was warm and his arm was heavy where it was slung over Yuuri’s waist; in sleep, Viktor looked younger, an innocent man free of his own reputation. He looked so different, so gentle. He hardly looked like the same man. 

Yuuri curled in closer, listening to the way Viktor’s breathing changed. He took in a low, long drag of Yuuri’s scent, burying his nose in his throat. A low, rumbly growl echoed in his chest and Yuuri savored the sensation of it, of a pleased partner holding him close. It felt wonderful in a way he hadn’t experienced before. His throat burned in a way that made him flush; he’d been screaming. 

“V...Viktor,” he whispered softly, nosing at his partner’s cheek. Viktor’s long eyelashes fluttered open, and his eyes burned through him in the dark. “Thirsty.” 

Viktor looked as exhausted as Yuuri felt, but he didn’t hesitate to fulfil his request. After pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s temple, he stood from the nest and poured them each a cup to drink. Yuuri winced as a cramp seized in his core, likely caused by Viktor’s absence, his distance from the nest. A small whine slipped from his lips and Viktor turned on his heel, his blue eyes worried at Yuuri’s state.

He nearly spilled both mugs as he hurried back to bed, crawling into their nest only to be pinned down and scented thoroughly once again. Yuuri rubbed the glands in his wrists against the sides of Viktor’s throat, his chest, his shoulders, everywhere he could think to reach without moving too far again. 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor apologized when Yuuri had finished and was breathing deeply against Viktor’s throat, pulling in his scent in long inhales. “I won’t leave again, I promise.”

Yuuri was satisfied with the promise, even if he knew Viktor couldn’t uphold it. He would have to leave again, eventually, and Yuuri would be alone again, but he pushed the thoughts away for the moment and allowed himself to sink back into Viktor’s warmth, his soothing touch tracing long, unintelligible words along the expanse of his bare skin. 

“Thirsty.” Yuuri managed after he had control of himself again, and Viktor held the tankard for him as he drank. He drank greedily, without care for his modesty or manners, easily emptying the cup, his thirst sated for the time being. 

“Better?” Viktor asked, carding his free hand into Yuuri’s hair at the base of his scalp. Yuuri nodded, burrowing deeper into Viktor’s touch, melting into his side again. “Good. I’m glad.”

Viktor struck a match and lit a tall taper candle at the bedside, graciously without leaving the nest. It gave just enough light to cast his hair in a beautiful golden hue instead of its normal silver, and Yuuri couldn’t help but stare as Viktor pulled a book from the nightstand.

He began to read, the words in a language Yuuri did not know, but the sound of it was soothing and slow. Yuuri drifted for a while, neither asleep or awake. Viktor was warm beside him, his arms strong around him, and he felt safe for the first time in years.

* * *

The candle had barely been burning for an hour when Yuuri smelled it: the overwhelming waves of strangers’ scents. His eyes blinked wide and it was clear that Viktor smelled it too, his mouth was turned down in a cold snarl, his jaw clenched tight. Yuuri tensed beside him, frozen in place by the weight of Viktor’s scent, now bitter and sharp. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri began, but Viktor pressed a slender finger to his own lips to hush him.

_ I hear something _ , Viktor mouthed silently.  _ Don’t move. _

Yuuri felt himself tense completely, the fine hair on the back of his neck raising on end. Beneath the gentle creak of the old planks were footsteps, hushed voices. His heat had sharpened every primal instinct into a weapon, and the razor sharp edge of an Alpha Command compelled him to obey. 

He nodded and remained still as Viktor slowly slipped out of bed, bare feet carefully avoiding every loose, squeaking plank. Yuuri could barely breathe as he held perfectly still, his knuckles blanched white and shaking; he was clutching the bedsheets in his fists. The footsteps drew closer, clumsier, the scents thicker and Yuuri felt he might be sick in his nest at the onslaught. 

He could hear Viktor growling, and his omega hated it. He hated seeing Alpha angry. The heavy doorknob rattled and Yuuri recoiled from the sound; his den was being invaded, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Viktor had armed himself with a small blade hidden in the nightstand, and blessedly pulled on a pair of trousers. Every line of him screamed Alpha, his shoulders muscled and broad, his teeth bared and gritted in a snarl, powerful arm poised and ready to strike. 

He was terrifying, Yuuri realized, his stomach twisting at the sound of the door creaking loudly on its hinges. Were he able to move, he would have buried himself deeper into his nest, hiding from view, but Alpha’s word kept him pinned exactly where he was. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t hide; he could only watch from the nest as Viktor drew a pistol from a desk drawer and tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back.

The door opened with a great heave and sour, rotting scents filled the room. Yuuri couldn’t keep the disgust in a moment longer and he retched, his throat burning with bile. 

“What, might I ask, are you doing here?” Viktor growled, his voice betraying every ounce of his anger. 

A familiar chuckle had Yuuri’s skin crawling. “Just thought we’d join your little vacation, Captain,” Cao Bin’s voice floated into Yuuri’s ear, the worst kind of chill settling into his core. “Seeing as you’d rather fuck your time away while the rest of us work.”

Viktor moved with such terrifying accuracy that it wasn’t until one of his men fell to his knees that Yuuri registered the movement. He couldn’t smell blood, and he thanked Viktor for it. The man had been struck with the butt end of his pistol, a quick and measured blow to the temple rendered him unconscious before he hit the floor. 

“Captain… how rude.” Cao Bin continued as the still-conscious man hurried to try and bring the third back to lucidity. “I came to parlay, and you’ve attacked my man here.”

“You haven’t come for  _ parlay _ , and we both know it.” Viktor spat in reply, everything in his body coiling tighter with the challenge. “ _ Why. Are. You. Here. _ ” 

Yuuri watched as Viktor’s arm flinched, the knife in his left hand held to the man’s throat, the pistol aimed at the cowering pair on the floor. Yuuri heard the shuffle of feet and someone groaning.

“You said it would be easy,” one of the two on the floor hissed, and Yuuri saw the disgusted snarl lurking in Cao Bin’s cruelly twisted smile. “Liar, you lied!”

Viktor growled, low and dark, unwilling to allow even one more minute of the time he had made for Yuuri to be taken by petty squabbles between his insubordinates. The fear that had been lurking in his mind all that time, what had pushed him to hide Yuuri away, to protect him, had finally come to pass, and he had to put it down. He had no other choice. 

Yuuri had trusted him, and Viktor had brought the violence to him. He was at his most vulnerable, and Viktor brought aggressors, mutineers into his den. He swallowed the lump of bile in his throat and let a wild growl rip from his chest. 

“You two,” Viktor nudged the lucid one with the barrel of his pistol, “Get out of my sight. Your contracts are  _ finished _ .” The two hobbled away with little argument, the fear clear on the boys’ features.  _ How easily young men are swayed into insurrection, _ Viktor bemoaned in his head. He still held his blade to Cao Bin’s throat, but quickly replaced it with the business end of his firearm.

The man didn’t flinch, his cocky grin only widening; Viktor recognized the bluff and didn’t give him even an inch. Clouds of angry, domineering scent fought in the air around them, and Viktor’s heart hiccupped at the sound of Yuuri gagging again. 

“You arrive in the dead of night and threaten your Captain,” Viktor growled, pushing Cao Bin out onto the deck, pulling the heavy door shut behind him, sealing Yuuri inside. 

He prayed Yuuri would forgive him for such an outright abandonment. 

“You recruit  _ my _ crew to undermine me, without even the decency of daylight to hide your cowardice.” Viktor pushed him down the ladder of the quarterdeck under the watchful eye of the night crew. Wide eyes watched on as sailors emerged from the bunkhouses, every man turned to the pair now on the main deck. 

“Cowardice?” Cao Bin laughed, staring down his nose at Viktor as he tipped his chin upward with the barrel of his pistol. “You call us cowards, while you’re holed up in your posh cabin, without so much as offering to share?”

Viktor grit his teeth, the very idea making him nauseous. “I thought you a better man than this,” he forced out a careful breath, “I see honor is of very low priority now.”

“And what do you know of honor?” Cao Bin laughed again, reaching a steady hand behind him and into his waistband. Even in the low light of the small hours, Viktor could see the dark gleam of a firearm in his hand and he pulled the hammer back. Viktor saw the tiniest flicker of fear in his eyes and fired without blinking.

Cao Bin’s weapon clattered to the deck, but something  _ deep _ in Viktor was displeased by the lack of a vocal reaction. All he was given was a choked whimper as Cao Bin clutched his bloodied hand. His eyes flashed at Viktor, budding tears pearling at the corners, but it wasn’t enough. He should have screamed. 

“You invaded my omega’s den.” Viktor growled, ejecting the casing and reloading. “You intended to take advantage of him. You told your co-conspirators it would be  _ easy. _ ” The pleasant thud of the pistol’s grip against Cao Bin’s shoulder blade was underscored by the sharp inhale, another muffled gasp of pain. “You think I’ve gone soft, have you? You thought I would be easy to defeat?”

That smug, awful grin was replaced with a grimace, searing hatred in his glare. He looked pathetic on the ground, his ginger hair hanging down into his face, his weapon hand a gory mess.

“Nothing to say now?” Viktor snarled, his teeth bared as he threw his entire body weight into a blow to his ribcage, forcing all the breath from Cao Bin’s lungs. He wheezed a barely intelligible curse and Viktor had no qualms in grinding the man’s bloody hand under his heel. 

“Fuck you, Nikiforov,” Cao Bin spat, sucking in chest-rattling breaths. 

Viktor leaned down, adding more weight to that mangled hand and tangled his fist in messy red curls. “Am I a coward now? Have I proven myself worthy of running my own  _ goddamn _ ship? Or am I still  _ too weak? _ ”

He fought valiantly, Viktor had to admit, but when Viktor pressed down again, Cao Bin finally gave him what he wanted. A scream tore itself from his throat and Viktor smirked. 

“There we are. Was that so hard to admit?” Viktor crooned sardonically and released his grip on the man’s hair. His head hung between his arms and he coughed up red. “I suppose so.”

Cao Bin was dead before he hit the ground; Viktor’s aim was flawless, as always. The rush of adrenaline and rage still roiled in his stomach, but the minor comfort of a threat eliminated felt like a relief. The gathered crowd that Viktor had all but forgotten was watching rapt, entirely consumed by the sight before them. Christophe was among them, looking bedraggled and exhausted; the first mate stepped into the small clearing the group had created and clapped Viktor on the back. 

“I pray this serves as an adequate warning,” Christophe said gravely, but Viktor’s blood was still rushing in his ears. “Disrespect will cost you dearly.”

Viktor felt his heart thudding in his chest. It was more than petty disrespect. “If a single one of you threatens  _ my  _ omega,” he growled, plucked the heavy silver ring from Cao Bin’s sword hand and flung it over the railing and into the waves. “You will  _ beg _ for the end that I just gave this whelp.”

Viktor recognized a few fresh faces in the group, first-contracts as well as the great many loyal crewmen he had retained over the years. He forced his shoulders back, setting them wide and broad again. Christophe again regarded the crew,

“Has the Captain made himself clear?” he asked, and Viktor climbed the ladder to the quarterdeck again, looming over his crew and the lifeless form crumpled on the deck.

The resounding ‘aye’ was the last thing Viktor heard before turning on his heel and pushing back into the den. 

Yuuri perked up at the sound of the door opening, having buried his head under a pillow as soon as Viktor had left the cabin. He had heard the gunshots, his heart had crawled up into his throat with worry. Something deep in his being promised that Viktor was okay, that Alpha was okay, but the fear still drove him further and further into his nest. His head felt hazy and fogged, like windows on a humid day; his heat refused to provide even an inch of leeway even given the circumstances. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed, his voice tight at the scent of other men muddling Viktor’s musk. It was still dark in the cabin, but he saw the sheen of blood on Viktor’s features, the spatters marking his linen trousers. “Alpha hurt?” 

Every doting instinct rushed to the surface of Yuuri’s mind as Viktor came closer, his hair tangled and messy with blood. He shook his head, but didn’t speak, his mouth pressed into a hard line. Yuuri knew something was wrong. 

“Can I…” Yuuri began, reaching for the damp washcloth resting in the basin. “I want to help.” Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest when he saw a tear slide down Viktor’s cheek, carving a path through another man’s blood. Yuuri scrambled out of the nest, every pressing thought of mating completely forgotten— all that mattered was Alpha. 

Yuuri smothered Viktor in his scent, pushing out wave after wave of soothing pheromones as he wiped everything that wasn’t himself or Viktor away. The cloth came away red and the water in the basin was soon tinted pink. 

“Pants off,” Yuuri directed and Viktor followed, the linen crumpling around his feet. “They stink.”

“I’m sorry.” Viktor’s voice was raw and hollow in a way that Yuuri hated. Yuuri shook his head and wiped away the last of the red on Viktor’s cheek and set the cloth aside, watching it soak up pinked water. 

“No.” Yuuri said with finality, tucking a messy strand of silver hair behind Viktor’s ear. “You protected us. Don’t say sorry.” He pressed his inner wrist to Viktor’s clean cheek and both of them shuddered at the sensation of it. Yuuri’s skin was sensitive, and his omega despised the lack of  _ Yuuri _ in Viktor’s scent. 

He could feel the heaviness in Viktor’s shoulders as he scented him, the way his head hung low. 

“Bed?” Yuuri asked softly, nosing at Viktor’s cheek. “You need to sleep.” Even through the haze of his heat, Yuuri knew that Viktor needed him, and that he needed a companion more than anything. 

Viktor moved slowly, but Yuuri pulled him into their messy nest, smoothing the wet cloth over the rest of his skin. Viktor made a small sound like a choked cough and Yuuri’s heart stuttered in his chest. Tears carved fresh paths down Viktor’s cheeks as he cried, his lower lip held between his teeth like an attempt to hold himself in. Yuuri cupped his cheek, wiping away that sliver of a tear with his thumb.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said simply, curling into his warmth and draping an arm over his stomach, now rising and falling unrhythmically. Another soft sob was choked off in Viktor’s throat, and Yuuri crept in closer, pressing his cheek to Viktor’s chest, listening to the thud of his heartbeat. 

“I—” he began, biting his tongue and stopping himself. 

“You don’t have to.” Yuuri soothed, his chest tight with the pain Viktor was expressing. They weren’t even bonded and  _ yet _ … “You don’t need to say anything.” The sob that had been clawing its way out of Viktor’s chest finally burst through his defenses, a wet, exhausted thing that made Yuuri ache. He turned on his side and held Yuuri tight in his arms, holding him in an almost painful grip. 

_ “I didn’t want to lose you.” _ Viktor managed through tears, his eyes bleary and unfocused.  _ “I was terrified, I couldn’t let them hurt you.”  _ Yuuri nodded, running his hand through the tangle of silver hair at the base of his head. Viktor’s words felt soothing, felt  _ right, _ even if he didn’t understand Viktor’s native tongue. 

Viktor slept fitfully in Yuuri’s embrace that night, tortured by what could have been. If Viktor hadn’t woken. If Cao Bin had chosen competent accomplices. He woke several times, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest, only to bury his nose in Yuuri’s throat again, to reassure both himself and his alpha that Yuuri was safe, that he was alive. He held his hand against Yuuri’s throat, touching carefully below his collar to his pulse point, just to feel his heart beating. 

He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead as dawn began to break over the horizon and let himself be carried back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next week is a double post week! stay tuned! 
> 
> love you all, stay healthy, stay safe, stay angry.  
> <3 ia
> 
> (you can read the next two chapters now! check out my pinned tweet to find out how!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's heat comes to a close, ugly memories resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains biting, blood and a very visceral panic attack.

The events of the previous night were washed from Viktor’s mind as soon as Yuuri’s scent filled his nose again. The sun had barely risen, early morning light spilled over Yuuri’s sleeping features, already twisted up with need. Whether he was truly awake or not, Viktor slipped his hand beneath the bedding and found Yuuri’s cock hard between his legs. Before Viktor had even had enough time to kiss him good morning, Yuuri had shaken himself from sleep on his own. 

“Good morning,” Viktor crooned, watching Yuuri’s brows furrow in the middle, his mouth curling into a tight circle with pleasure as he stroked him. “May I taste you?” His sleep-rosy visage was damn near angelic, and Viktor couldn’t stop staring. 

How could Yuuri possibly say no to such a question? He nodded and watched with rapt affection as Viktor wrapped his mouth around Yuuri’s stiff cock, red and hard between his legs. The warm, suckling sensation began pleasant and slow, pulling a quiet, sleep-rough moan from his lips. Still half asleep, Yuuri lazily thrust up into the heat engulfing him.

A stifled moan vibrated against his cock, and Yuuri moaned Viktor’s name, fighting the urge to simply spend right then. Yuuri ran his fingers tentatively through Viktor’s silver locks, a bit bedraggled from his hard night of sleep and the excitement of the night’s events. Yuuri’s heat-hazy mind didn’t have the real estate devoted to remembering the mutiny at the moment, entirely focused on the way Viktor sucked his cock so perfectly. 

The fire burning in his core flared and sparked as Viktor sealed his lips around the base of him, sucking with such great force that Yuuri thought he might weep. His tongue pulled at every single one of his desires, to be pleasured, to be savored, to be held. Yuuri gasped at the graze of teeth along his shaft, gripping tightly at the mess of silver hair between his legs. This pulled another moan from his Alpha and another vibration through his cock, which was so close to bursting already.

Viktor swallowed all of Yuuri to the back of his throat; his talented mouth and tongue pulled an orgasm from him so violently, so suddenly that Yuuri screamed, back bowing and his hips snapping up of their own volition. The heat of Viktor’s mouth was blistering on his cock, the way his tongue gently laved at the folds of his foreskin… it was all too much. Viktor only relented when Yuuri’s cock had emptied completely into his mouth, but it still wasn’t enough. 

Yuuri whined and he took matters into his own hands, stroking Viktor to full hardness and sitting down on his cock. Viktor nearly choked on his own breath at the sight of him, riding his cock with such reckless abandon. Yuuri was truly divine, blushed and moaning wantonly, spearing himself open on Viktor’s length. Behind the lining of taut muscle under the soft skin of his belly, Viktor could see the hard press of himself, the length of his cock a bulging presence under his skin. 

Viktor’s eyes rolled back at the sight, sending him thundering over the edge of orgasm. Yuuri followed soon after, dragging his sensitive walls up and down before getting caught on the inflating knot near the base. Pearly strands of come landed hot on Viktor’s stomach, and he was indescribably disappointed that he lacked the flexibility to lick it up himself.

Yuuri collapsed bonelessly onto Viktor’s chest, and Viktor could feel his partner purring; he would never tire of the sensation. Low rumbling vibrations in his chest answered the omega, comforting him as he came down from the high.

“Are you tired, sweet one?” Viktor murmured, knowing fully that the boy was mostly running on instinct; his words weren’t truly reaching Yuuri, instead only the sounds of a doting alpha permeated into Yuuri’s mind. Yuuri sighed quietly, a smile warming the slight roundness of his cheeks. “You’re doing so well for me… taking my cock so perfectly. It’s like the gods themselves sculpted your body to fit mine.” The words fell off Viktor’s tongue thick and warm, punctuated with kisses to Yuuri’s temple, his hairline and the shell of his ear.

Viktor’s knot hadn’t even gone down before Yuuri was moaning at the saccharine musings. Feather-light clenches around his cock spurred Viktor’s alpha into action again, surprisingly ready for another round. 

Yuuri’s omega knew his heat would be over soon, and it ached to  _ breed _ . It begged Yuuri to keep going, to keep pulling seed from his Alpha.

“Alpha, please, please please—” the chanting chorus tumbled out of Yuuri’s mouth. He pushed himself back up, straddling Viktor’s hips. He swiveled himself back and forth, feverishly attempting to sate the ache inside him. He needed the friction. He needed more, more, more. Shaky legs forced him to stop, unable to get the motion he needed. Small, broken cries were punctuated with 'please' and moaned recitations of ‘Alpha’.

“You want more, hmm? Do you need me to fill you up?” Viktor growled, thrusting his hips upward and into Yuuri’s wet heat. “You want me to pound you into the mattress? You want me to fuck my pups into your needy little hole?  _ Gods, Yuuri, you’ll kill me _ .” He moaned the last few words in his native language. Yuuri nodded his head so fast it nearly made him sick. Viktor quickly maneuvered Yuuri onto all fours, giving in to his alpha’s demand to  _ mount _ , and wasted no time in picking up the pace again.

“Oh good gods, Yuuri… you're so good for me. Fuck, so perfect,” Viktor’s pace was angry and relentless; the obscene, wet slapping of flesh on flesh nearly drowned out by Yuuri’s wanton, sobbing moans. His possessiveness surged and before Viktor could stop it, he had grabbed a fist full of the omega's raven hair. He pulled hard, forcing his back to arch sinfully— his head wrenched back so far as to make eye contact. Yuuri yelped, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” Viktor growled, all the while thrusting a punishing rhythm with his hips. 

Yuuri whimpered before replying shakily, “Y-you, Alpha, you. Only you.”

“Yes. Mine. My Omega. Mine. Mine,  _ mine, mine _ .” Each of his heated words was punctuated by the wet smack of his pelvis against Yuuri’s ass. Viktor held him in that position, keeping the blistering eye contact as he shuddered and came, moaning in the harsh, throaty sound of his first language. Yuuri cried as he came too, the stretch of his spine and the sensation of Viktor's cock pulsing inside him too much. 

Viktor’s knot held them together, stretching Yuuri open even further. Even after Viktor released his grip and Yuuri collapsed to the bed, Viktor’s hips were still thrusting in, pulling the swell of his knot against the inside of Yuuri’s rim, making him whimper and groan. Viktor hummed with satisfaction at the fluttering clenching of Yuuri’s hole around his cock. 

“So good for me, darling,” Viktor crooned into Yuuri’s ear, folding himself around Yuuri’s frame, holding him close as Yuuri shuddered through a dry orgasm, his cock spending nothing more than a few precious drops of come. “You did so well, my sweet, beautiful Yuuri.”

Viktor’s rut carried him through the day without delay between rounds, despite both of them barely able to continue moving, muscles protesting even the slightest actions. Yuuri had been brought to the very brink of pleasure, of need, of satisfaction, and by the end, simply let himself be moved under Viktor’s hands. He could feel the ghost of Viktor’s cock up into his throat, carving him clean from the inside out. 

It was some unknowable time in the evening when Yuuri began to reach for his collar, his omega screaming to unclasp the tiny closure and allow Viktor to claim him, to mark him. There was no arguing, no rational mind to clamp down on the urge. There was only want. 

Viktor had him spread out below him like a feast, his skin marked with purpling lovebites and the shadows of his hands around his waist, his hole a perfectly slick, wonderfully soft ring of pink flesh around his knot. Viktor’s alpha crooned at the sight of his well-loved omega, the blissful, moony glaze in his beautiful, warm eyes. 

“Bite,” Yuuri rasped, his throat surely dry and sore after their days-long tryst. “Bite me.”

The words took a moment to register, Viktor’s head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. He saw Yuuri’s struggling attempt to unlatch his collar, the physical barrier protecting him from a bonding bite. Viktor recoiled, not daring to wrench himself free of Yuuri’s body and risk injury. He leaned away, holding his breath against the oncoming onslaught of scent. 

“No, Yuuri, I can’t,” Viktor stammered, panic beginning to settle in his stomach. “We promised, no bites. At the beginning. Do you remember?”

Yuuri’s brows furrowed as he attempted to remember, his arms falling aside without completing their task. Viktor allowed himself to exhale, seeing the leather still firmly locked in place; he thanked whoever had designed Yuuri’s collar for the intricate locking mechanism that he himself probably could not break in this state. 

“No bond?” Yuuri asked, his voice wet and shaky. Viktor shook his head to confirm it. 

“No bond. Not now.” he answered, keeping his voice low and sweet, desperately hoping it would be enough to stave off an emotional drop. “I promised I wouldn’t, and I want to keep my promise.”

Yuuri’s lower lip pressed out in a pout, the tiniest glimmer of tears shone in his eyes, but he nodded, and Viktor let out a slow, grateful sigh. Yuuri’s hands fell to the bed, and Viktor gladly wrapped himself around Yuuri’s frame, holding him warm and tight. 

“Would you like me to bite you somewhere else instead, love?” Viktor crooned, nosing at the joining of Yuuri’s throat and shoulder, a few inches below his covered scent gland. 

“Please,” Yuuri whined, nodding eagerly. He clung to Viktor’s back tightly and craned his head to the side, leaving the smooth expanse of his throat for Viktor to appreciate, to kiss and explore with his mouth and his tongue. Viktor let himself move across every inch of his bare skin, pressing a kiss to every place that he had learned made Yuuri squirm.

His cock was still hard inside Yuuri’s wet warmth, and he began rocking slowly in and out. Yuuri gasped and shivered with his long, languid thrusts, gripping tighter and tighter at his back as he picked up his speed. Before either of them was ready, Viktor’s hips were smacking wetly against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri’s fingernails were running painful red scratches in Viktor’s back.

“Please bite,” Yuuri begged, craving the drag of Viktor’s teeth over his sensitive skin. He ached for Alpha to claim him, to make him his, to feel the bliss of being loved, just once. “Please, Viktor!”

Viktor moaned deep in his chest and set his teeth just below the line of Yuuri’s collar and marked the place with a wet, messy tongue. Yuuri’s small, hitched gasp sent warm shudders down Viktor’s spine and he came, sucking a bruising mark into Yuuri’s throat. 

Yuuri screamed and thrashed below him, bucking his hips wildly and messily as the pleasure heightened. He was surely coming as well, if the the fluttering sensation around Viktor’s cock was any hint; Viktor growled deep in his throat and closed his jaw around that spot, biting hard, but not enough to break skin. 

Desperate hands grasped for Viktor, pulling him by the wrist to Yuuri’s nose, inhaling his scent to his very center. He panted against Viktor’s scent gland, his body still contracting around his cock, still coming, still twitching messily. 

“Bite, Yuuri.” Viktor instructed, muffled against his neck. Yuuri’s state would only worsen without the imitation of a responding bite, and Yuuri obeyed. His mouth opened around the muscle of Viktor’s forearm, closing tight as a vice. The pain was nearly blinding, and Viktor had to release his grip on Yuuri’s throat to cry out as his teeth broke skin. 

Yuuri moaned against Viktor’s flesh held firmly between his teeth and Viktor allowed himself a glance. Yuuri’s eyes were rolled back and closed, his expression utterly blissful, even with smears of blood around his lips. He committed the image to memory, letting it burn into his mind like a child staring into the sun for too long. After a while, Yuuri released him, lapping at the wound like he might a bond bite, and nuzzled into Viktor’s touch with a loud, rumbling purr. 

Viktor traced long, curved lines of jumbled, incongruous words into the expanse of Yuuri’s skin, wishing for all he had that he could write them down, to capture the moment he had stumbled into. Yuuri’s breath slowed as the sunset sky faded from its brilliant pinks and purples to the deeper blues of night, the stars appearing one by one to guide the night crew toward their destination. The gods had given him a beautiful moment here with Yuuri, and he was anxiously anticipating the chance to record his thoughts. 

Viktor’s knot released its tension as he spied the North Star, twinkling boldly against the velvet skies. He gently slipped out of bed and padded to his desk. Pulling the old leather notebook from its drawer, he dropped his pen into the jar of ink resting delicately at his right hand. The small crystal pot reflected and sprayed the warm candlelight in every direction, swaying with the movement of the flame.

A pang of something ugly hit Viktor in the stomach as his eyes traced the last page he’d written.  _ Andrei _ . The cold crept into his fingertips. He found himself unable to recall the warmth of the man in his bed, the thoughts that had been swirling so incessantly that, instead of remaining in the sweet warmth of his nest, he had left to take them all down before the haze of rut stole them again. Five years had done nothing to dull the pain. And it seemed that not even Yuuri, beautiful, perfect Yuuri… could save him from it either. He was too good. So much light could never stoop so low to pull Viktor out of the dark.

Angry, bitter tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting the page afresh, running the ink of his first love’s name scribbled manically across the parchment. His body quaked with the burden of the memories, crashing over him with the weight of oceans. A small hand rested between his broad shoulders, calling him back to the surface. He turned to see the soft face of his Yuuri, the beacon lit for him on the shore ahead. Yuuri wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, wrapping his arms around the Captain’s broad shoulders as he fell into the alpha’s lap. He didn't say a word.

Warm candlelight danced across Yuuri’s soft features, his caramel eyes gleaming like topaz in the low light. He offered the boy a small smile as an apology for waking him, but the omega gave no indication he was requesting it. He only craned his neck to kiss the man on the cheek and laid his head against the broad chest, offering his presence and warmth to his Alpha. The scent rushed into his nose then, Yuuri’s comfort. He was trying to calm him. He must have sensed his distress and instinct took over. The gesture brought fresh tears to the Captain’s eyes, and the words flowed once again.

> _ You brought me back to life, you breathed salt air into my lungs. Sea water flows through my veins again, waves lull me to sleep again. With your touch I am alive again. _

The pain still burned at Viktor’s chest, but it had eased slightly with Yuuri brightening his days. He was sharing the omega’s heat, serving the purpose he had intended, but new, unintended benefits began cropping up left and right. Maybe Yuuri truly was the Captain’s safety, his escape from the unrelenting tide of memories and pain.

But only if Yuuri could forgive him for what he had done. Yuuri had trusted him, and he had betrayed that trust. All of it soured his stomach. Yuuri was clearly the best thing to happen to him in the dark void of the past five years, and that was how he had treated him. 

The shaking returned, only barely steadied by a swig from the silver flask at the top of his desk. The gods had sent him an angel. He had taken their gift and defiled it, beyond their activities from the past two days. The omega had become more than just a ha’penny-a-dozen pretty face. More than the pretty omega he met in a tavern a year ago. More than the rut-fueled lust could see. More than the mewling noises he made underneath him. He was in over his head. And he knew in the deep reaches of his heart, that once the heat was over, Yuuri would return to the distant, cold cell deep in the ship’s belly, to serving him breakfast and scrubbing decks, to keeping his distance, and surely back to despising him.

They hadn’t spoken about what happened the night before, the intruders that threatened Yuuri’s life, his safety. The thought touched an exposed nerve in Viktor’s chest: what if Yuuri didn’t remember? Would his omega simply bury the memory? Would it be a better alternative to Yuuri remembering, or would it serve as another reason to hate him? Viktor had protected him, but he had put him in danger in the first place.

Viktor puffed out the candles, now nearly burned down to the ends of their wicks, and carried Yuuri back to bed. Yuuri’s breaths slowed as he drifted quietly back to sleep. He pulled the boy close to his chest, aching down to his bones.

He couldn’t bear another goodbye.

Viktor murmured lovely things into Yuuri’s hair as they lay there, wrapped up in each other as the comedown from their pheromone haze drew closer and closer. Yuuri slept soundly in Viktor’s arms, and he wished he could bottle the moment forever, only to open and relive in darker days to come. The sun began to rise, despite Viktor’s desperate wish for the opposite.

Viktor held the back of his hand to Yuuri’s forehead. His skin was certainly less feverish, signaling the end of his heat. Of course it had to end, Viktor reminded himself, knowing that the rut Yuuri had caused would wind down soon with the drop in pheromones.

“Viktor?” came Yuuri’s whisper, his voice was shaky and hoarse, rough with sleep and overuse.

There was a quiet moment, and Viktor selfishly wished Yuuri would never emerge, that they would spend the rest of their lives tangled up in flesh and sheets. They had crossed so many lines over the past four days, and the fear began to crawl under his skin. Could they ever truly go back to how things had been before, if Yuuri decided to reject him? Viktor's thoughts kept swirling, spiralling deeper and deeper. Yuuri shifted against him, nosing softly at Viktor’s arm, seeing a pristine round bite mark that he didn’t remember leaving.

“Viktor?” Yuuri repeated, his voice louder but no less weak, cracked around the edges.

Viktor pushed out a wave of answering pheromones, hoping his scent would soothe him. “Yes, Yuuri? Are you alright?”

“I’m hungry.” Yuuri replied, his stomach affirming the statement with an impolite rumble. Yuuri blushed, hurrying an apology.

“That's not a problem. You must be starving.” Viktor smiled, pressing a kiss to the nape of Yuuri’s neck. “I’m going to call for Cookie, I promise I’ll be right back.” Viktor fell back into the doting alpha role easily, despite his heart plummeting into his stomach. This was the end.

He climbed out of the messy nest they had shared, having been built and rebuilt multiple times over the course of three days. He crossed the boards and rang Cookie’s bell, and pulled on a pair of smallclothes for the first time in days. He surveyed the damage that the two had caused, most of it focused on the bed. 

There were scratches in the oak headboard, the usually stationary bedposts peeling the finish off the floor. They had rocked the bed so much it had moved nearly a hand's length from its usual position. Viktor would see to that once everything was back to normal. He shuddered at the word. Normal meant going back to sleeping alone, it meant not waking to see Yuuri’s face in the morning sunlight, soft and sleepy. Normal meant back to being alone. The heat had allowed him to pretend, if only for a few days. Viktor pushed back against his thoughts, not wanting to alarm Yuuri with his sour scent, but Yuuri’s scent hit his nose first.

The chorus of voices gave Yuuri no respite, most of them belonging to Hisashi, some of them his own.  _ ‘Bad omega.’ ‘Broken.' 'Worthless.’ ‘How many times to I have to beat you to get it into your stupid head, Yuuri? Be bred or leave.’ _

Yuuri scrambled to cover his ears, to force the voices out of his head. Nothing he did stopped Hisashi from chanting his name, from every past failure rising to the surface of his memory regardless of how far he had pushed them back. He remembered the raw, vile anger on Hisashi’s face, the dismissal, the abandonment. He remembered his darkened, empty stare as he threw him out. It all came surging to the forefront at that moment. Yuuri would never be good enough, and he knew it. He couldn’t swallow the noise before it escaped, a high-pitched whining sob. Violent tremors ripped through his body, rattling the breath from his lungs. 

Viktor smelled his panic, hanging thick in the air; his wretched sobs hit him like a cannon blast to the chest. He ran to scoop Yuuri up, to hold him until he calmed down as he had on their second day. Yuuri still lay on his side, curled in on himself. Viktor fell to his knees at the side of the bed, reaching to touch Yuuri’s face. He ached at the pain so evident on the omega’s face.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Let me help you,” Viktor asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying his panic, but Yuuri couldn’t hear the soft words over the thunderstorm in his mind. 

_ “No, no, no, no, please stop! _ ” Yuuri screamed, trying to drown out the voices, trying to silence them.

“Yuuri, I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did,  _ please _ , let me help?”

“ _ Please, make it stop! Not broken, not broken, not bad… not bad… _ ” The words fell out in his first language, Hisashi’s angry voice growled in his mind that he had failed again. Viktor laid his hand on top of Yuuri’s right, cupping his cheek.

“Yuuri! Look at me!” Viktor barked, forcing all he could into the command. Yuuri heard that. Wild and terrified brown eyes met Viktor’s.

Yuuri’s stomach dropped as the reality of what had just occurred faded slowly into view. An unwelcome discomfort crept into his veins, mixing with the vague, foggy memories of the past three days. He met the Captain’s gaze, those blue eyes piercing and demanding.

Those eyes, peering up at him from between his legs, a lewd, wet mouth closed around his cock. His blood ran cold. He hadn't shared his heat with anyone else since Hisashi… memories bubbled back up to the surface, of angry words and violent lovemaking. Of being unable to walk for a week, of tearing skin and broken bones. Blue eyes shifted to dark brown, silver hair bleeding black as if it were saturated with ink. All he could see was Hisashi between his legs, Hisashi in bed with him. His smoky scent choked him again. Hisashi had found him again.

Yuuri jolted away from Viktor’s touch like he had been burned and scrambled off the opposite side of the bed onto the wood floor. He shrank against the wall of the cabin, trembling and shielding his face with one arm. The sight of Yuuri so terrified, so clearly afraid… it pulled all the breath from Viktor’s lungs, crushing him like he’d been submerged in frigid water. He had helped Andrei through a handful of heats before, but he had never seen an omega so afraid.

_ “I’m so sorry, Alpha… no pups, no pups and I’m sorry… bad omega, bad omega. Please, Alpha, please make it stop!” _ He begged, unable to find the words in the Common Tongue. 

“Yuuri, please, I don’t know what you’re saying… I need you to use words I understand. Can you hear me?” Viktor kneeled at Yuuri’s feet, releasing a thick blanket of calming pheromones. His heart was thundering in his chest, sweat beading at his forehead. Yuuri was flooding the room with distress, souring the usual light, cherry smell with something ugly. It smelled like decaying fruit, tangy and expired. “Yuuri, love, can you hear me?” Viktor said gently, desperately trying to remain calm.

“No,” Yuuri gasped, feeling himself whirling on the edge of disaster. The floorboards were shifting below him as his mind raced, frenzied with fear. “No, no, you…  _ leave me alone!” _ Yuuri screamed in his native tongue, that awful flickering between Viktor and Hisashi like a sputtering candle at the end of its wick.

“Yuuri, please, I’m not going to hurt you,” Viktor offered, his tone firm but tender. He saw the fear in Yuuri’s eyes, watched as he began to shake, his knuckles white where he was gripping the table. “Yuuri, listen to me,  _ please _ ,” he pleaded, moving slowly as he had before. 

“You… you’re lying, you followed me, how did you find me?” Yuuri croaked, His heart was pounding in his ears, his legs aching at the exertion of just standing after his heat. Hisashi’s cruel, wicked smirk faded to Viktor’s concerned, fear-stricken expression. “You’re not… no, you’re…”

“Do you know who I am, Yuuri?” Viktor asked, “Do you remember me?”

“Viktor. You’re Viktor.” Yuuri croaked, tear-stained eyes blinking open slowly.

“Yes,” Viktor replied, offering his hand carefully to Yuuri. “Yes, I’m here, darling. I’m here.” Yuuri blinked, whatever had been clouding his vision dissipating almost immediately. He whimpered and fell into Viktor’s arms, curling himself tightly into his chest. “Yuuri, love. What’s wrong? Can you tell me?” The shaking had subsided, his heartbeat slowed.

“I… I’m sorry, I… I thought you were… someone else.” Yuuri answered, his voice raw and hoarse. “I… I haven’t had the best track record with heats.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain, I know they’re difficult.” Viktor let more of his scent pour over the two, gently running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “A lot of ugly memories can surface, I know.” The terrible stench of distress was dissipating, slowly being replaced by Yuuri’s usual light scent. The two stayed there for a while, huddled against the plank wall of the Captain’s cabin. Viktor kept murmuring quietly, the ship swaying them gently from side to side. Eventually, Yuuri had had enough time to calm down to stand and lie back down in bed. His tears had long since dried, his body finally wrung dry, thoroughly exhausted and wracked with hunger pains.

Viktor plucked a book from one of the shelves, and began reading aloud. The words coming out of his mouth were unfamiliar to Yuuri, but the sounds and timbre of his voice were calming nonetheless. The end of his heat was always a messy affair. His omega had never been fully satisfied with the end of a heat, his instinct craving a child that never came, even if the logical Yuuri knew that he did not want one. The gentle rocking of the boat lulled Yuuri to sleep, if only for a few minutes before the heavy door was opened for the first time in three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 10 is up right now! (it's just a little thing to wrap up before the next arc begins! *eyes emoji intensifies*
> 
> love you all!   
> <3 ia


	10. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next?

It had taken a good deal of coaxing to help Yuuri out of bed once his heat had broken. He was sore and wrung dry, flayed raw down to the bone. He was reluctant to leave and abandon his nest, but also to leave behind the fragments of memories they had made together in bed. 

So much could change in only three days. 

They ate that first meal in relative silence, far too overwhelmed by hunger to entertain pleasant conversation. Yuuri himself still felt like his head was stuffed with cotton, heavy and unhearing, and still haunted by the image of Hisashi looming over him, Yuuri was barely in the mood to talk. His hunger finally sated, Yuuri dressed in the clothes he had arrived in three days ago; his fingers shook as he tied the drawstring of his trousers. 

“Can I help?” Viktor asked, watching with a wary eye.

“No,” Yuuri shook his head, deciding to simply leave them loose when his fingers refused to cooperate. His body demanded he bathe anyway, he wouldn’t be wearing them for long. “I can manage on my own.”

Viktor’s face fell, and Yuuri pretended he didn’t see the way his expression shifted. “Alright. Can I accompany you-”

“Captain, I’m fine,” Yuuri interrupted, feeling much more tired than he had expected. “I can manage on my own." He repeated, the words forcing their way out of his mouth. He couldn’t bear to look up. He knew Viktor was disappointed, he could tell simply by the shift in his scent. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor called his name softly, but it only served to deepen the chasm growing between them. It only reminded him of the other ways Viktor had said his name. Had moaned his name. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri managed, before stepping out onto the deck for the first time in three days. The air was cool and soothing against his skin, banishing the last of his heat fever; wind pulled at his clothes and the stray strands of hair framing his face. The sun had risen over an hour ago, leaving its glittering wake in the choppy waves to the east. It felt warm on his cheeks, his forearms, but he didn’t give himself the time to enjoy it. 

The walk to the communal head was short, thankfully, every muscle in his body protested going down the ladders. Crewmen avoided his eye as he walked, their conversations dying to whispered nothings when he passed them by. Even the boisterous morning crew went silent. Yuuri felt his cheeks flush hot with shame— of course they all knew, how could he have expected otherwise? 

The head was graciously empty when Yuuri arrived, empty of sailors, empty of oppressive scents, empty of Viktor’s scent. Yuuri could feel that absence, heady, warm cedar replaced by sterile soap and the distant scent of sweat. There was a small part of Yuuri that missed warm baths, though he had long gone without the luxury. It had been at least a year by that point, when he was still with Hisashi, before the tavern, before… this.

He was grateful, at the very least, for soap and clean water. Even if it was cold. 

He undressed and filled a pitcher from the water stores and set to his cold, nude work. Every inch of him was covered in sweat and a few dried remainders missed by Viktor’s cleaning, clinging to the fine hair on his stomach and between his legs. Yuuri scrubbed every inch of himself, wishing the soapy water would rinse the memories away too. His shoulder ached, the skin red and tender to the touch. He recognized it when he pressed on it, seeing the red halo of a bite mark around it. 

There were other marks littering his skin, dark reds and purples on his thighs, at the crest of his hips and long, slender bruises marking his waist. The shadow of Viktor’s touch still lingered, burned into Yuuri’s very skin. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the marks didn’t fade. After he was as clean as he could feasibly be, he poured a full pitcher over his head, working his fingers through the snarls in his hair. 

It reminded him of Viktor, his tender touch, his soft words that Yuuri could only remember in brief flashes. He was grateful for the water rolling down his cheeks, at least it wouldn’t be obvious that he was crying. 

How could he have done this to Viktor? He had asked so much of him, demanded so much, and he left without a word after it was done. After Viktor had done so much for him, cared so lovingly for him. He had pulled Viktor away from his duty, from his ship, from his crew, and had barely thanked him for it. 

His chest began to ache as he cried, the thought of Viktor having to stoop so low, having to do such awful work as to tend to his greedy omega. He wished he could have been born a beta, that he hadn’t forced his parents to give away the inn, that he hadn’t caused so much hurt and heartache.

The door behind him opened and closed, and Yuuri hurried to cover himself; the shame alone had him scrambling for his trousers, the fear of being nude was secondary. 

“Sorry, sorry,” someone apologized, the door shut again quickly, leaving Yuuri alone. 

Yuuri let his head fall between his knees. Water dripped from the ends of his hair and landed on his forearms, falling like steady rain down his back. He wished Viktor was here to comb it, like he had before. His gentle hands, his soothing voice—

No, Yuuri caught the thought before it grew into something more. He couldn’t let himself think those things anymore. Not after this. Not after letting him see the panic, after shrinking away from him in fear because he was too lost in his own mind for logic or reason. The rock of the ship held no comfort now, only a hollow reminder of the way Viktor’s chest moved with his breathing. 

The memory ached like a wound torn in his heart itself. Tears came unbidden, his throat tightening painfully. 

What would happen now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it! if you want to read ahead, you can! follow the twitter link below and check out my pinned tweet!
> 
> thank you for reading ❤️  
> ia


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eavesdropping, broken hands, and apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS MORNING WE GOT AN ICE ADO TEASER AAAAAAAAAAAAA I AM NOT OKAY AND NEITHER ARE YOU

Weeks passed and the return to normal was difficult to say the very least. Whatever proximity, whatever intimacy they had found during those three days evaporated like morning dew and it clung painfully to Yuuri’s heart, pulling at him in the worst ways. 

His heart ached as memories from his heat faded into his mind, things he had been too far gone to experience the first time. Soft words, gentle touch. The mating was there, but most of it blurry and jumbled… the memories that remained the strongest were the warmth of his skin, the distant sounds of Viktor’s voice. There was a painfully clear memory of candlelight flickering in Viktor’s eyes, tears clinging to silver eyelashes. He remembered comforting him, and waking at his side in the morning. Beyond that, it was empty and black. There were brief flashes of light, but an entire evening was blurred from Yuuri’s memory. It made him uncomfortable to say the least, that there was a night he couldn’t remember.

The searing, weighty eye contact he remembered from the heat they shared was gone without a trace. Viktor gazed past him, behind him, above him, and sometimes, it seemed, straight through him. It was as though he was trying to avoid his eye. Yuuri avoided his eyes as well, still hopelessly confused by his conflicted emotions. 

One thing he was certain of, however: he couldn’t bear disappointing Viktor again.

They had scarcely shared more than a handful of words since the end of his heat, and as much as Yuuri wanted to explain the panic episode of that night, to explain that it hadn’t been Viktor’s fault, but a phantom of a memory from his past, he couldn’t. He forced himself to swallow it back. Bringing up Hisashi would require Yuuri to tell the entire sordid tale, and he wasn’t ready for that. To relive that darkness on his own was one matter, sharing it with another soul seemed unthinkable, let alone with the Captain.

They sank into the mutual distance like quicksand.

Most of Yuuri’s day consisted of making and serving Viktor his meals, and helping Cookie prepare meals for the crew. He spent the afternoons and evenings doing chores that the Captain and Christophe assigned him. Yuuri polished boots, cleaned the Captain’s quarters, and managed his laundry. Very little brought him joy, save for learning new recipes with Cookie. They were brief glimpses of happiness, and Yuuri clung to them with all he had.

The changing climates did not aid in Yuuri’s poor concept of passing time. He knew in the back of his mind that it was still winter, because the days were still short and the nights long and dark. It rained most nights, when Yuuri would be used to light, delicate snow fluttering to the ground. 

The sun had set just after supper was served one rather damp night, but Yuuri had one final chore to do before he could return to the solace of his cabin. Christophe had asked him to scrub the floor just outside the Captain’s quarters, which was covered in a thick coat of dried salt and boot grime.

Other than Cookie, Chris was the only other person aboard the ship that Yuuri felt comfortable with; Yuuri very well remembered the first mate’s kind nature from the days before all of  _ this.  _ Occasionally Chris would return from a stop at port with a small trinket for Yuuri, sometimes a snack from a bakery, sometimes a book to read. The blue ribbon tied at the end of his braid had come from a small shop that Christophe insisted was ‘truly the most adorable thing he'd seen in his life’. 

Christophe would often tell the Captain he was going to borrow Yuuri for chores when he wasn’t in the galley, only to abscond with him and spend the time teaching him about sailing instead. Yuuri learned to tie knots, the fastest ways to coil rope, the anatomy of ships, the purposes of the different sails. He even offered to teach him about night navigation when the nights came early enough without keeping him out of bed too late. Yuuri was eternally grateful for those kindnesses, and he did whatever the First Mate asked him without complaint, including this.

Yuuri fetched the supplies necessary from his closet in the galley, filling a pail with cool rainwater and a handful of rags to scrub. He could faintly hear the Captain and Christophe behind the heavy door, likely passing a flask of rum back and forth over a game of cards. Their conversation was easy and Yuuri enjoyed listening to the dark rumbling timbres of their voices, even if he couldn’t hear the words from this distance. It calmed him, his omega happy at the proximity to the alphas.

As his task neared the door, their words became clearer and easier to hear. Yuuri remembered the heat he had shared with the Captain beyond that door, now very aware that he had also been easy to hear. He flushed at the thought, only for the embarrassment to be washed away when the shouting began 

The Captain and Christophe's conversation had escalated, no longer the usual relaxed back-and-forth of two friends.

“You’re being a damned fool, Viktor. What exactly do you hope to accomplish by keeping him here? You can tell that he's miserable.”

“I don’t know,  _ alright _ ?” Viktor snapped, his voice wild, angry. A few huffing breaths devolved into a wet sigh. “I- I don’t know.” He sounded broken, like sagging shoulders and a curling spine, caving into itself.

“Gods, you’re a mess. Do you love him?”

“I… Chris, I-”

“I knew it.”

“No, wait,  _ damnit _ . I don’t know. Even if I do… how can I possibly say it? How could I say I’m in love with him after everything I’ve done?”

Yuuri choked on his own breath— what had Viktor said? His mind was racing, a whirling sinkhole of denial and shock. 

“Viktor. I know you’re still hurting. I can see it in your eyes. I miss him too. We all do. But what on this sacred earth and sea will come from keeping him in the dark on this?  _ Mon cher, _ you need to sort this out before you hurt him more.”

“I know, it’s just… everytime I look into his eyes, I see him, and I-” His voice was shaking and hoarse, wracked with sobs. Yuuri dropped his rag into the bucket and curled against the wall to the right of the door. Yuuri fought every instinct in his body to run inside and comfort Viktor, whose scent had soured and reeked of distress. He was tossed between the impulsive omega straining to comfort and the logical Yuuri, fighting to maintain the distance he’d created over the past weeks. Fighting poorly, but fighting nonetheless. He knew the  _ him  _ they were talking about. Andrei.

“All I can see is the look on his face and I feel everything like it was happening all over again. I still feel him even now, Chris. The pain, the fear. I can still feel him dying in my arms… I can’t do that again. I can’t lose another. And I can’t force this burden on someone else.”

“Lose… another? So you really do love him?”

“Christophe, I’m hopeless. I fell in love with the poor serving boy and what did I do? I choked. I panicked. I fucking  _ kidnapped _ him. I threw him down below, and after three days of the best sex I’ve had in my life, I’ve been avoiding the conversation, the apologies, like the plague. I put him in harm’s way.”

“You  _ can’t _ blame yourself for that. You had no idea Cao Bin would stoke his idiot bunkmates into starting shit.” Christophe sounded exasperated in the worst way. What had Cao Bin done?   
  
Fear dropped in Yuuri’s stomach like a rock. Somewhere in the back of Yuuri’s mind, a memory began to pull at the edges, uncomfortable like the awful sensation of tugging at stitches. The discomfort was something he couldn’t quite touch, something he couldn’t quite put his hands on. 

“He doesn’t even  _ remember, _ Christophe. What do you think he would say if he did? I took advantage of him during his heat… as soon as he came to, he left. What kind of man am I, Chris? What kind of Alpha would do that?” His voice cracked. A frustrated scream erupted through the cabin, causing Yuuri to flinch. A sharp  _ crack  _ ripped through the air, followed by a garbled cry of pain.

“Well done.” Christophe deadpanned, “Now you have an extra porthole.”

“Damn it all. That fucking hurt.” Yuuri could hear the heavy footfalls and gentle squeak of leather as Viktor made his way to the couch.

“Good. I’m glad that hurt. Now I don’t have to hit you. Idiot.”

“Chris, what am I going to do? I… I love him. My alpha won’t stop growling, it won’t let me think of anything other than him…” His words were broken, heavy with anger. “And this is what I did to him. How could he ever…?” Viktor cut himself off, and the choked sound he made was so painfully familiar Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat.

Time seemed to both slow and speed up at once; Yuuri felt as if he was sinking with it, feeling the water grow colder around him, but at the same time warmer... Viktor’s words rattled in Yuuri’s chest, his head spinning and dizzy. No matter how hard he thought, it didn’t make sense. Something was missing, a memory, a thought, something. Anything. Yuuri held his head in his hands, a headache mounting behind his eyes. 

“You need to get a hold of yourself, Vitya.” Chris sighed, his voice growing quiet and muffled as the small sounds Viktor made grew louder. They spoke for a few minutes, in hushed tones that Yuuri couldn’t make out. He warred with himself for far too long before he finally heard Christophe’s voice again. 

“I don’t think you took advantage of him, Viktor. Was he clear of mind to consent during his heat, and did he do so?”

“Yes, he consented.” Viktor’s voice was wet and weak, but confident in that fact. Yuuri caught himself nodding in silent agreement. He remembered that.

“So that’s your answer. You took care of an omega. I don't think he would have wanted to spend his heat with anyone else or holed up in his cell below deck. And I know you would have cut me down where I stood had I attempted to help him myself. The other things, the mistreatment, the lying, those are still an issue. But you can strike ‘rape’ from your list of transgressions.” Chris huffed, exasperated. “You may want to ask him why he left. It might be more complicated than you think.”

Viktor tutted, and Yuuri could perfectly imagine him rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying that there might be a different explanation.” Viktor grumbled noncommittally. Chris growled at Viktor’s dismissal before continuing.

“You never know, Captain. Maybe he’ll forgive you someday. But first you need to fucking apologize. Now.” Christophe’s voice was harsh and pointed like a weapon, so much so that Yuuri felt himself shrink away from it. “No more excuses. Let him see the real you, the Viktor he met back in the tavern. The Viktor that saved him from mutineers. If you want him to trust you, start with the apology. Tonight would be ideal. And you can start teaching him to sail, like you promised him you would. It’ll let you get to know him again.” his voice softened, reminding Yuuri of the calm tones he had used at the beginning, back at the tavern.

“Thank you, Chris.” Viktor’s voice was warm, low. Yuuri felt himself pulled in with the tone, a space deep in his mind was suddenly alight with familiar, glowing candlelight. “Can you help me patch this up?”

Chris snickered. “Your hand, the hole in your wall, or your mess of a relationship?”

“The hole, smartass.” Viktor snarked in reply, a light slap belied some sort of playful swat and Yuuri felt a quiet laugh bubble out of his chest. “The mess I’ve made is barely worthy of the title ‘relationship’.”

The laugh died as soon as it began, and Yuuri fell quiet once again. The space that had come between them was clearly undesirable on both sides, and the old flicker of yearning sputtered to life again. He had spent the past weeks moving through the ship like a specter, blank and cold, ignoring his own thoughts, his own wants… had Viktor been doing the same?

“Saving your hand for Yuuri and not the surgeon, I suppose?” Christophe teased playfully, and Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“That’s not a terrible idea… I’ll call for him.” Viktor shifted against the leather and Yuuri panicked, scrambling to grab the pail and get back to scrubbing. He blanched at the thought of being caught eavesdropping.

“No, that’s quite alright. I’ll fetch him for you,” Christophe interrupted. “After he’s done tending to your wound, apologize. Say you’re sorry. For everything.”

“I… I will.” Viktor promised, his voice wavering slightly. Yuuri could faintly hear footsteps as he approached the door and he made himself appear as busy as he could. “And would you mind sending for one of the repairmen too? This might need more attention than I thought.”

“Of course, _mon cher_! I am your dutiful first mate, after all. I’ll be back in but a moment.” 

The door swung open just as Yuuri resettled on his knees, working at a particularly tough spot in the wood. The door clicked shut and Chris’s steps approached Yuuri from behind.

“I trust you heard,  _ mon ami _ ?” Christophe asked softly, setting a careful hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. The warmth of it was soothing, after the weeks of cold absence.

“I did,” Yuuri nodded, matching the volume of the First Mate. “You… he’s. Did you do this on purpose?”

Chris simply laughed. “You are dismissed. Our Captain needs you.” Chris took off down the hallway toward the bunkhouses to rouse a repairman. “Excellent job on the floors here, Yuuri. They shine with the beauty of your angelic face!”

Yuuri would have to thank him later. Pieces of the riddle were beginning to fall into place in his mind. He knew that the Captain had a painful past, but the things he had described… He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of feeling a mate die through a bond. Every thought, every emotion, every small prick of pain was tangible to one’s mate through the bond— and Viktor had felt his mate die.

A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine. Viktor said he was in love with him. While that was hardly an explanation for  _ anything _ , Yuuri was willing to give it a try. Maybe then he would finally be able to decipher his own feelings, and begin to understand the Captain's.

He rose to his feet and dusted off his knees, watching flakes of salt fall like snow around his worn boots. He knocked twice like always, listened and pushed the door open, seeing the ugly hole in the portside wall.

“Yuuri,” Viktor greeted, his cheeks flushed and eyes red. The sound felt like coming home.

“Good evening, Captain.” Yuuri breathed, feeling something inside him cracking like a great sheet of ice as it melted and dropped into the ocean below.

“Would you mind helping me with my hand?” the Captain asked, almost  _ sheepishly _ . Yuuri could smell the blood on his battered knuckles. His hand was scraped up and messy, his knuckles already bruised and swelling. Christophe had been right: Yuuri felt the pull of his omega to tend to the wound. To mend. To dote.

“Do you have bandages? And alcohol?” Yuuri attempted to remain distant, to avoid meeting his eye, but he made it incredibly difficult to do so. The full moon cast Viktor’s silver hair aglow, making him look utterly ethereal; he was too beautiful to look at for long. His eyes were closed, and Yuuri thanked the gods for that. Very little was keeping the omega from submitting entirely, his heart aching at Viktor’s scent hanging heavy in the air. An oppressive melancholy overshadowed the cedar, darkening the warm musk with something cold and sharp. Metallic, like iron. Like blood.

The Captain laughed, and Viktor felt it vibrate in his chest. “We both know I have plenty of alcohol.” Yuuri felt his lips twitch up into a smile at the joke at Viktor’s expense. “There should be bandages in the privy.”

The way Viktor’s eyes lit up at the sight of Yuuri’s smile had him feeling warm and dizzy. He had missed this terribly. Yuuri nodded and gathered a few rolls of gauzy cotton, a salve to soothe the irritated flesh and a small bottle of spirits from the cabinet to disinfect the wound. He wet a cloth from the pitcher on the vanity, and sat on the couch at Viktor’s side. 

“Oh, fuck,” Viktor hissed, wincing when Yuuri poured the alcohol over his wound. “Damn, that smarts.” 

Yuuri pushed out a warm wave of scent to soothe him. “It’ll only hurt for a moment,” he promised, “Be brave for me?” He found himself teasing; the distance between them was melting like ice in the spring.

Yuuri felt as though he was intruding, touching and tending to Viktor like this. He wasn’t expecting to be so content quietly dabbing at the wound, his omega purred as the instinctual pull to care for its alpha was sated. His omega was irreconcilable; Viktor had thoroughly claimed it, and it had thoroughly claimed Viktor. 

Yuuri gently massaged the salve into the battered skin of Viktor’s hand before binding it in the white cotton. His mother had taught him how to mend wounds, and he called on the memory to not wrap too tightly and to leave Viktor with his full range of motion.

“Thank you, Yuuri. It already feels better,” Viktor said, gently flexing against the bandage. “It still hurts like hell, but at least I don’t look like I lost a fistfight to the cabin wall.” Viktor laughed tiredly at his own joke, Yuuri laughing into his hand. 

“Beg to differ, Captain.” Yuuri teased again, watching as Viktor’s jaw dropped. The reaction was far more satisfying than Yuuri expected, and gods, just speaking to him again had his heart singing.

“You wound me, Yuuri.” Viktor laughed, dramatically clutching at his chest. “How shall I ever recover?” he asked, sinking into the sofa with the exhausted sigh of a waifish socialite. Yuuri let himself laugh then, the sound bubbling out of his chest without control. Viktor too, began to laugh louder, letting his facade of wounded pride fade. 

They laughed longer than Yuuri could remember himself laughing before, and tears soon began to well up in his eyes. It wasn't until Viktor began to choke on a cough that the laughter died down, Yuuri scrambled to ensure he was alright.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Viktor assured him, clearing his throat and standing from the couch. "I just need a drink." 

Viktor made his way across the room to the portside wall, housing his bookshelves and a matching liquor cabinet. The interior of the cabinet was lined with mirrors, reflecting light from the candles and lamps scattered around the room. It reminded Yuuri of the inside of his Mama’s jewelry box. With his arm unusable and cradled against his chest, it was clear Viktor would need help, despite his attempts otherwise.

"Can I help?" Yuuri asked softly, to which Viktor turned and flushed. "You could use a helping hand."

Viktor laughed softly and backed away from the cabinet, Yuuri didn't give the Captain a moment to argue, instead standing and plucking the flask from his hand and uncapping it. He filled the flask as he had several times before, decanting rum from one of the crystal bottles on the middle shelf. Screwing the flask’s small silver lid back on, Yuuri wondered what the assorted brown, red and clear liquids tasted like.

"Would you like to try something, Yuuri?” Yuuri considered it for a moment, curious if the Captain remembered Yuuri's tolerance for drink was notoriously low. “Only if you want.” he added, “I have a very nice cider that I think you would like.” A warm smile touched the Captain’s cheeks as he met Yuuri's eye. 

"Just one drink," Yuuri acquiesced. Just one wouldn't be bad. Viktor plucked two long-stemmed glasses from the top shelf of the cabinet, his cotton shirt lifting, showing a teasing glance of his muscled abdomen. Yuuri felt himself blush at the sight of the hard lines there.

"I'll ensure you don't make the mistakes of your younger self," Viktor teased playfully, winking at him and making him flush. He did remember then, Yuuri shivered at the memory of that night, the beginning of his heat, Viktor lying in his lap… “Fear not.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Yuuri hummed quietly, feeling his heart leaping up into his throat at the return of that tone, the soft, gentle tones he had missed so dearly.

“Alright. Now, that cider—” Viktor plucked a dusty brown bottle from the shelf of decanters. It was the only bottle of its kind in the cabinet, the plain and brown glass tucked in behind delicately sculpted crystal and long, slender bottles clear as ice. The cider had a worn paper label wrapped around the body of it, written in an unfamiliar language. The shapes were foreign to Yuuri, but he knew enough to recognize Viktor’s native Northern tongue. 

Viktor uncorked the bottle with Yuuri's help and carefully poured two full glasses on the surface of his desk, not trusting the task to his wrapped hand. He handed one of the glasses to Yuuri, who took the drink with two hands, very mindful of dropping such delicate crystal. The liquid was amber-colored and bubbled like champagne, which Yuuri had a specific distaste for, after his spectacularly embarrassing showing at Mari’s wedding.

The cider smelled delicious, crisp like ripe autumn apples. Yuuri took a testing sip, following Viktor’s lead. Blue eyes followed Yuuri’s as the drink slid past his lips and the aroma filled his mouth and nose. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed, a small moan vibrated in his throat; it burned warmly as he swallowed. He couldn't help but drink deeply, an action he was sure was entirely unmannered.

“Do you like it?” Viktor asked excitedly, eyes wide like a child’s.

“It’s delicious,” Yuuri smiled, unable to swallow down the warmth spilling from Viktor’s smile. “Is this something from home?” He asked, running his fingers over the characters on the label.

“It is, it’s from the province where I grew up.” Yuuri felt the minor shift in Viktor’s posture, the tightening of his jaw, for only a moment. Home was as sensitive a subject for Viktor, it seemed, as it was for Yuuri. He frowned and sipped his drink, cursing his loose tongue. 

“I found this bottle specifically in a lovely tavern tucked into the mountains.” Viktor’s voice was distant, wistful. A tone Yuuri had heard often in his mother’s voice when she told him stories of her first home by the sea. “The Frozen Rose, it was called. Quaint place. The family who run it brew it every autumn and they add spices to it in the winter. Oh Yuuri, I wish I had a bottle of the spiced cider to share, it’s absolutely divine.”

“I’d love to try it someday.” Yuuri answered, pulling another long drink from the glass. The light, crisp bite of the drink was heavenly, and Yuuri very soon felt warm and hazy. True to his word, Viktor didn’t push him to drink again, simply pouring himself another glass and corking the bottle one-handed. 

Yuuri watched on as his mind imagined Viktor cast in the warm firelight of a hearth, a tankard of hot spiced cider against his lips. Viktor would look wonderfully regal, Yuuri decided, draped in furs, a red wool coat around his shoulders and a winter’s blush clinging to his cheeks and nose. Yuuri let himself imagine himself there as well, curled against his chest and drifting lazily between sleep and wake.

The Captain hummed softly, his braid falling over his shoulder and rustling the light cotton of his shirt— Yuuri remembered how it had felt against his skin and he ached for it once again. He could feel Viktor’s warmth through his shirtsleeves and it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy. He needed more, and was drawn inexorably inward to Viktor.

Tension hung thick in the air between them. Blue eyes flitted around the cabin, repeatedly settling on Yuuri's features, as if he were studying a map that Yuuri couldn't see. 

At the very least, he had the blessed foreknowledge that something else was on the Captain's mind, placating the anxiety building in his chest. He wanted to hear the words. He had been carrying so much weight, so much pain too close to his heart for too long. He had been keeping so far from Viktor against his omega's will, ignoring how right it had felt to be with him, to be near him.

The closeness of his hands, of his scent, his breath, of his very existence dissolved the last of Yuuri's waning resistance to the idea that he might be ready to forgive him. Yuuri absently looked around the room, releasing the tiniest hint of his scent into the space. Hardly a whisper, so minute that it barely changed the air around him. The smallest nudge to say the words hanging off his tongue so precariously. He could almost see the shapes of them pressing against his closed lips.

“I— well. Thank you, Yuuri, for tending to my hand. And I… I know that I truly do not deserve it, not after everything I’ve done. But I’m-” his voice cracked, and Yuuri’s heart both soared and throbbed at the ugly sound. “I’m so, so sorry. I understand if you never forgive me. If you’d rather disembark and never see me again. I can’t even explain why I did… what I did.” 

Yuuri saw it, the glistening beginnings of tears in his eyes. He acted without a second thought, just as he had earlier. He unrolled his sleeve and reached up, wiping away the wetness beading in the corners of his eyes. Viktor’s shoulders began to shake, his chest heaved, he wrapped long arms around himself and nearly bent in two. Viktor's voice sounded small and distant, babbling  _ ‘I’m sorry’  _ and  _ 'please forgive me’ _ until they refused to sound like Common Tongue. The wretched sounds drove every ounce of drink from his veins.

“I know.” Yuuri brought up the courage to say. "And that’s good enough for now.” he whispered, gently, if…  _ awkwardly _ , patting his head like a child's, as his mother would have done.

“But… how? How could it possibly be  _ good enough _ ? After everything I did?” His voice was hoarse, rough with tears. Wet blue eyes met Yuuri's again as Yuuri sank to the floor with him. Yuuri bit back the ugly swell of memories, of that initial deceit, of what had happened in the intervening weeks and months, of the cold loneliness Yuuri had come to know. The Captain knew that he had hurt him, he understood that an apology was necessary. 

“Because you recognize the damage you’ve caused. Your apology is accepted.” Viktor blinked at him owlishly, as if he had just spoken his first language instead of the Common Tongue.

“You can’t be serious. Pending my explanation, penance, atonement, I’m sure?” Viktor questioned, fully and truly dumbfounded.

“No. I accept your apology.” Yuuri repeated, confidence and warmth swelling in his chest. “But. Do not misunderstand me. Forgiveness does not restore trust. The pain remains, it’s still raw, it still aches. But you recognize what you’ve done." Yuuri watched as fresh tears began to bead in Viktor’s eyelashes, gathering like dew caught in spider's silk. "Trust is something we can work on together.” 

A Yuuri of the past would have been surprised at his tempered reaction, that forgiveness had been given at all. For the first time in what felt like years, Yuuri’s inner omega and his mind fell in step with the other. 

“Yuuri, I don’t deserve this. I deserve to be drawn and quartered for this.” Viktor’s voice shook, his uninjured hand twitching in his lap. It was clear that he wanted to reach across the space between them and touch him, and Yuuri felt the same pull. “You deserve atonement, not…  _ this. _ What can I do? Anything. Please.” 

“Your broken hand is perfectly fine to atone.” Yuuri teased, nodding at Viktor’s bruised knuckles. “I just want to learn to sail. And to know you again.” 

“What have I done to deserve such kindness? I don’t deserve this, Yuuri. I don’t.” Viktor began to cry again, but the sour scent of his pain, the distress, began to bleed from the air, replaced by something new. Something Yuuri hadn’t smelled before. It still smelled like the Captain, like cedar, but colored with something light, something warm. Like a long walk on a summer morning.

“You don’t have to understand. Is it not enough that I’ve forgiven you?” Yuuri asked, shifting to his knees, meeting the Captain's watery eyes.

“More than I could ever hope. I just don’t know how to-” Yuuri pushed back his fear and placed a finger in the middle of his full lips.

“Captain, stop trying to know. Rest in knowing I’ve forgiven you.” Yuuri stood from the floor, his knees by now aching. “If the new porthole is any hint, I think we’re both exhausted past our limits.” Viktor’s eyes went wide.

“Yuuri, wait,” Viktor breathed in a rush, gripping at the sleeve of Yuuri’s shirt, still kneeling on the floor. “Would you like to join me in the morning? Eat with me, that is? Please?” 

Yuuri felt himself smile at the plea, the soft curve of his smile felt too familiar to refuse. “I would love to, Captain.” 

“Excellent. I’ll see you in the morning then.” Viktor smiled, wet cheeks glistening in the flickering candlelight. A flash of a memory danced in front of his eyes. Of his heat. Of tears painted with the Captain's cedary musk, tinged with the sweet smell of happiness, of contentment. “Sweet dreams, Yuuri.” Viktor caught Yuuri’s hand in his uninjured one and lifted it to his lips in a kiss; both of them flushed pink.

“Goodnight, Captain."

“Goodnight, Yuuri."

An apology. It sat softly in his mind, the burden gently easing off his chest. He hummed the familiar lullaby, hearing the sweet tones of his mother's voice join his from the warm depths of his memory. He slept contentedly, for the first time in months, in the hammock he hated so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy american thanksgiving, lovelies! hope you're having a good day! i'm thankful for every single one of you! 
> 
> please consider commenting, comments make my little writing heart soar.  
> <3 ia
> 
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	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this very soft chapter: breakfast, teasing, slow dancing and kissing.

The smell of the Captain’s usual breakfast filled Yuuri’s nose the following morning in a familiar but wholly different way. It no longer weighed on him with dread to hear the sizzle of bacon or the bubbling call of the kettle for his coffee. Instead he felt himself nearly shaking himself free of his own skeleton as his excitement pitched higher and higher. 

That day began a new chapter, and Yuuri could hardly wait. 

“You’re taking breakfast with ‘im, are ye?” Cookie teased as Yuuri reached for a second plate. His own portions were smaller, and with a sidelong glare from the cook, he added more to his serving.

“Aye,” Yuuri answered, covering their matching plates. “No more breakfast with the ladies, I’m afraid.”   
  
Cookie laughed, a bright booming thing that had Saint Rumbarrel bleating in reply. “They’ll certainly miss ye.” Yuuri laughed too, feeling himself grow warm in the cheeks at the thought. The intervening months since his heat would have been unbearable without the company of Cookie and the animals, without the task of cooking and learning new recipes. 

“I can tell ye’ve got it bad fer the Captain, Yuuri. Ain't a secret, the way you look at 'im. I don’ know what ‘appened while you was in there with ‘im, but I think he’s got it bad fer you too.” 

Yuuri froze, nearly overfilling the Captain’s coffee cup. He had been  _ that _ obvious about his feelings, but he hadn’t been able to parse them on his own until now. His feelings had been too confusing and circular to figure out on his own, it was embarrassing that they might have been obvious enough for others to notice.

“Will you be okay without my help?” Yuuri opted to ignore the comment to spare himself further embarrassment.

“O’ course I'll be okay. Was okay afore ye got here, I'll be okay with ye gone. Ye missed three days, remember? I'll miss ye though.” Cookie winked, gently elbowing him in the ribs.

The tray was a bit heavier than he was used to, carrying two meals instead of the usual one. Two cups of coffee, two plates of eggs and potatoes. There was something wonderfully domestic about it. Yuuri smiled softly to himself, indulging himself in another fantasy: of waking up in that large, downy bed beside him every morning. Of making breakfast for the two of them every day. Of lazy morning lovemaking, all sleepy moans and dopey smiles. Of quiet conversations and warm, sleep-heavy embraces. 

Yuuri was knocking and entering the cabin before he realized he’d arrived, his feet had carried him there without thinking. The Captain was still asleep, his silver hair piled on top of his head in a messy knot. He could see the vast expanse of his back uninterrupted, the hard muscle of his shoulders, the arch of his spine. The cleft of his rear was just visible above the edge of his blanket. He admired the view for a moment, staying as quiet as he could.

He set the table for breakfast, his omega positively thrilled at the duplicate place settings. Once he was pleased with the spread, he wandered to the Captain’s bedside and found his seat on the edge of the mattress. Viktor’s sleeping face was too beautiful to look away. His full lips were barely parted, a few stray strands of silver hair dancing with each inhale and exhale. His right arm was still bandaged and cradled close to his chest, left arm hung off the side of the bed, fingertips nearly brushing the floor. 

“Good morning, Captain,” Yuuri whispered, releasing some of his scent into the air. IIt had a pleasant hint of sweetness that was unique to happy moments like these. Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, sleepy and unfocused; he groaned, low and rumbly, sending a chill down the length of Yuuri's spine.

“I brought breakfast… don’t you want your coffee?” Viktor perked up at the mention of the drink. He cast a sidelong glance at Yuuri, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. His cheeks were flushed and warm from that long night, his injured hand held tight against his body.

“Shhhhhhh. Too loud. Coffee first. Then talk.” His accent was thick in the mornings. Yuuri liked that too. He spared a moment to imagine what his name would sound like in that voice, the rough timbre of his Northern accent. He shivered at the thought.

Viktor sat up, the blanket still covering the region below his navel, but one bare foot had slipped from the covers. As Yuuri passed to take his seat at the table, his confidence surged. He ran one short fingernail teasingly down the arch of Viktor’s foot, which was immediately pulled back under the blanket. A shaky breath escaped Viktor’s mouth, followed by a sleepy growl that sounded more embarrassed than angry.

“Ticklish?” Yuuri teased, taking his seat at the table. Slowly easing himself out of bed, Viktor laughed, rough and throaty.

“Very,” Viktor answered and pulled on a pair of loose, low-slung cotton trousers that shifted with every movement. “I trust you won’t take advantage of that fact.” They clung to the curve of his ass beautifully, and the faintest line of his cock was visible as he walked toward the table. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat as he froze in his seat, hazy memories of his heat drifted through his mind. He fought against the arousal building behind his navel. Yuuri bit his lip against the thoughts that seemed to rise on their own. 

“No promises,” Yuuri replied as nonchalantly as he could manage, pulling his coffee closer to his nose. It smelled delicious and the steam rose languidly through the air, unhurried.

“Thank you for breakfast, Yuuri. It smells delicious.” Viktor felt his lips quirk up in the corners at the sight of Yuuri’s proud smile. He reacted to praise the same way he had before, with a slight flush and a shy smile, and god, he was beautiful.

“Thank you, Captain, I must admit that it was very different making food for two this morning. I almost dropped the tray on my way up the ladders.” Yuuri laughed as he lifted the covers from their plates. The food was still hot, and the aroma of peppered potatoes rose freely into the air; Yuuri's mouth was watering. Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hungry, his appetite had long since vanished without a trace… but he had to wait for Viktor.

Slender fingers reached for a fork and Yuuri mirrored, just a moment behind. Viktor narrowed his eyes, noting Yuuri’s hesitation, his hand hovering just above his plate. He could practically smell Yuuri’s hunger, his stomach had growled loudly not moments ago.

“You’re my guest, Yuuri. Please. Eat.” His heavy morning accent was waning as Viktor woke further. Yuuri gingerly poked the fork into a chunk of potato and lifted it to his mouth, a pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. He whispered a quick blessing, thanking the gods, the farmer who grew the potato, and to whoever had their hand in creating the ethereal creature sharing breakfast with him before popping the morsel into his mouth. 

He couldn’t have stopped the low moan of pride, of satisfaction, if he tried.

“You seem to be enjoying the food you’ve made us, Yuuri,” Viktor questioned, laughing gently. “Is that the noise you always make when you eat?” Yuuri laughed as well, hand springing up to cover his full mouth. 

He swallowed the bite and quickly shot back, “Is that the noise you always make when someone tries to get you out of bed, Captain?”

“You ought to know, Yuuri,” Yuuri shuddered at the way Viktor purred his name. “You’re the one who wakes me up every day.” Yuuri blushed, knowing full well that Viktor’s first waking words were never words of the Common Tongue, but sounds he only made on two occasions: when waking in the morning, and when he was in bed during  _ other  _ activities.

“Oh, do I know. I feel bad for poor Cookie if he had been waking you before I arrived.” The laugh that erupted from Viktor came straight from his stomach, loud and rolling. Yuuri couldn’t help but join the infectious belly-laugh. The two went back to eating with smiles glued to their faces, enjoying each other’s company silently. Every few minutes, one or the other of them would giggle a bit at the mental image of Cookie’s face upon hearing the lascivious noise coming from his Captain. The other would join in, interrupting their meal while they tried to shake the thought long enough to eat their breakfast without choking.

* * *

  
  


After that morning, the two fell into a comfortable pattern of sharing breakfast before parting ways for the day. Spending time together became easier as Yuuri grew to trust the Captain again. The voices still haunted him occasionally, but he knew that he could ask Viktor for comfort if he needed it, which the alpha gladly provided. Viktor was utterly thrilled with the recent developments, forcing himself (at Christophe’s recommendation) to keep his alpha in check.

“ _ Cherie _ , let him come to you. He’s been through a lot, as have you. Let things bloom naturally.” Christophe’s advice rang in his ears every time Yuuri met him in the mornings, smiling at him the way he did, hearing the sound of his laugh… As difficult as it was, Viktor knew that what his trusted first mate had told him was true. He needed to allow things to grow in their own time.

Viktor also followed up on his promise to teach Yuuri about sailing, the pair spending a few hours between lunch and supper wandering the ship together. Yuuri thoroughly enjoyed showing Viktor the things he had already learned from Christophe, surprising him at the speed with which he had learned to tie a bowline knot. The two quickly devolved into competition, Christophe judging Viktor’s time to be just a hair faster: a competitive side of the Captain had emerged that Yuuri had never seen before, and Yuuri loved it.

“If I win this round, Captain,” Yuuri huffed, his arms and hands beginning to ache with the strain, “You’re going to find me a proper  _ bed _ . I can’t nest in a hammock.” 

Viktor’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide in shock. “Yuuri, you don’t have to  _ win _ a bed,” Viktor protested, the length of rope nearly falling out of his hands. 

“Don’t try to talk me out of it, I’m going to win this time.” Yuuri snarked in reply, taking his rope in hand and challenging the Captain with a sharp, taunting smirk. “Ready up, Captain. I won’t have you throwing this.”

The few that had gathered around them did their best to withhold the chuckling, but Christophe made no attempts, cackling like a hag. 

“Fine, you’ll take Chris’s bed if you win.” Viktor replied, readying himself for one last round. Yuuri snorted a laugh, and Chris choked on his protest when a fellow crewmate elbowed him in the ribs. Viktor wished he had a better cabin to house Yuuri safely, but all other sleeping areas were communal save for Chris's cabin and his own, and his alpha growled angrily about the prospect of anyone being allowed that close to Yuuri while he slept.

“I can wait until we port, I’m not  _ that _ impatient.” Yuuri laughed.

“Fine, then you’ll simply have to take his cabin.” Viktor conceded, watching as Christophe stepped in, his reservations on the topic as clear as the scowl on his face. Yuuri scrambled to soothe the first mate’s concerns. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble to stay down below, really. I like it. It’s quiet and private, and I’m close to the galley.” the unspoken words hung heavy on Yuuri’s tongue and tugged at Viktor’s chest painfully. He needed the safety of it, he needed the security that the brig provided.

“I’m very sorry that I didn’t do this sooner.” Viktor apologized and pulled the heavy brass key from under his shirt, tied around his neck on a leather thong. Yuuri’s eyes went wide as Viktor stretched the lanyard over Yuuri’s head, letting the key lay proud against Yuuri’s chest. “Your safety is the highest priority.” He said quietly, and Yuuri smiled up at him, holding the key firmly in his hand.

“Thank you, Captain,” Yuuri replied, a certain kind of melancholy settling into his bones. He had been given so much over the course of the last few weeks, and now held the physical key to his safety. But he still felt a divide between himself and the Captain, between himself and the man he had come to know. “I’m still going to win.”

Viktor’s lips curled up in a smile and he readied himself one last time, before losing happily to Yuuri by just a hair.

* * *

It was later that evening that things truly began to shift.

“Do you have anything else for me tonight, or am I dismissed for the night?” Yuuri beamed, ardently hoping for the former, and that the Captain would understand that he didn't necessarily mean chores.

“I don’t believe I have anything in mind. Christophe, do you?” Viktor desperately tried to make eye contact with his first mate, attempting to silently expel him from the room. Viktor had plans for the evening, and they most certainly did not involve Chris’ presence in the room.

“Nothing that I can think of. I’m turning in for the night, I’d better get all the sleep I can since you gave away my beautiful bed, Captain.” Christophe hissed, clearly not thrilled about the new arrangements. Yuuri only felt bad for a moment. He knew Chris would have a new bed the moment they ported again in a month’s time. Chris exited the cabin blowing Yuuri a kiss, who flushed uncomfortably hot at the attention.

“Don’t worry yourself over him, Yuuri. He’ll survive.” Viktor chuckled after the door was closed. “Would you join me for a drink before we part for the night?”

“I’d love to, Captain.”

“Let’s have some more of that cider, hm?” Viktor purred, voice dropping into a warm, smooth timbre, melting and smoldering in Yuuri's core; Yuuri caught on to his meaning without much elaboration.

“Yes, please.” Yuuri slowed his words softly, stepping deeper into Viktor’s space and meeting his lidded gaze. The best way to describe Viktor’s reaction was flustered; that was certainly not something Yuuri thought he was able to do. 

Viktor’s heart stopped beating, only for a breath.

“Alright, darling, let me fetch the beverages. Just a moment. Wait for me out on the deck?” Viktor was barely breathing as Yuuri inched closer, his scent overwhelming Viktor’s nose in the best way.

“Aye, Captain. I’ll be waiting for you.” came Yuuri’s whispered reply, murmured into the exposed skin of Viktor’s chest, his breath hot and wet against his flesh. Viktor shuddered and Yuuri quite liked that reaction.

He paused for a moment, truly taking in the grandiose nature of Viktor’s library. He ran glancing fingers down the spines of the books on his shelves; he had never noticed just how many volumes lined the walls of his cabin… books on sailing, astronomy, combat tactics and a few books of poetry.

“ _ Yuuri…” _ Viktor crooned playfully, pouring the cider into two glasses. “Hurry on.” Yuuri laughed and stepped out into the nighttime air.

He slipped through the door to the Captain’s private deck with ease, stepping out onto the small balcony aftward of the ship. Until recently Yuuri hadn’t noticed the balcony, his attention was usually drawn to a certain man inside the room. This deck had quickly become Yuuri’s favorite place aboard the  _ Stammi _ ; it was quiet and secluded, often where the two would share their coffee in the mornings and watch the sun rise over the water. Sometimes they would trade stories, sometimes they sat in silence. 

As they approached their destination, (Yuuri learned they were headed for the tropics, and making an extended stop at Sanisia, the infamous port run by pirates of all creeds and bands) the weather had begun to turn for the better. The climate combined with the changing season, rainy days were exchanged for warm mornings and chilly nights, but Yuuri relished the chilly nights most of all. They meant he could use it all as an excuse to tuck himself under Viktor’s chin and sap up the warmth he seemed to generate without any effort. 

“I’m always warm, Yuuri. I grew up with nine months of winter a year,” he had explained. “Ice is in my blood.”

“Then why are your feet always so damned cold?” Yuuri had asked in reply without a second thought, only to receive a snorted laugh. The question had sparked memories in both of them of the heat they shared.

Yuuri saw right through Viktor’s plans; the Captain was terrible at keeping secrets, despite his penchant for surprises. The Captain’s posturing had laid it out quite clearly, and Yuuri’s omega was positively radiating excitement. Yuuri had found himself growing fonder and fonder of the Captain, seeing the man’s clear attempts to curry his favor. More questions still required answers, but even if neither of them were ready to share those answers, Yuuri wanted him. He missed those hands on him, those eyes focused wholly on him. 

He shuddered in the dark, thanking the gods and the stars as witnesses to it. Viktor stepped through the door and joined Yuuri on the deck, the crisp air invigorating and soothing to his nerves. He handed Yuuri a long-stemmed glass filled with the Northern cider, and held out his glass in a toast.

“To you, Yuuri. May you always sail fair seas and kind waters, and if not, weather the storms with grace and strength.” He clinked Yuuri’s glass and raised it to his lips. 

Yuuri lifted his in return, “And to you, Captain. May your happiness know no boundary, no country, no kingdom. May you find life and love, and both abundantly.” He smiled, quoting the words that Okaasan had toasted to him at his wedding. The memory of her voice struck deep in his chest, pushing away the other thoughts and a tear rolled down his cheek. Viktor gently brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb, his hand lingering against Yuuri’s cheek.

“You are more lovely than I could have ever wished, Yuuri.” Viktor breathed softly, as if he might blow Yuuri away with too harsh an exhale, worried that he might slip through his fingertips and disappear into the night sky.

“And to you the same, Captain.” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor placed a slender finger in the center of Yuuri’s lips to quiet him. A familiar gesture at this point.

“Please, call me Viktor? At least when we’re alone?” Viktor asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. It was almost lost in the rush of  _ Stammi's  _ wake.

“Viktor.” Yuuri nodded, watching those blue eyes soften at the sound of Yuuri’s accent curled around the name. He had been working at the hard ‘r’ at the end of his name in the solitude of his cabin at night; it had been so long since he had spoken the name aloud, it felt like honey on his tongue.

Viktor’s hand still lingered against Yuuri’s cheek, a pleased thrum of a purr rumbling in Yuuri’s throat. “May I have this dance?” Viktor held an arm extended before him, one hand over his heart.

“Wait, Viktor, I don’t- I can’t,” Yuuri stuttered, suddenly very aware of the drink in his veins.

“Oh, yes you can. I haven’t forgotten your morning dance in the tavern. Have you?” Viktor asked with a tone of playfulness, his smile full of mirth and molasses. “Just follow my lead, everything will be fine.” Viktor’s eyes glittered in the lamplight filtering through the windows from the cabin, his smile wide and bright like the moon as it rippled in the dark waves below.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Yuuri hedged, feeling his cheeks burn with preemptive embarrassment. Yuuri took Viktor’s hand tentatively and he was spinning, tugged close into Viktor’s body with a flick of his wrist. He yelped when his body met Viktor’s, clapping a hand over his mouth. 

Viktor chuckled softly and set Yuuri’s left hand on his shoulder, wrapped a strong arm around Yuuri’s waist. His right palm laying gently in the small of his back, the heat of his skin bleeding through his shirt. He held Yuuri’s right hand carefully in his left; his long silver hair was loose, blowing gently with the wind and the swaying of their movement. Yuuri’s eyes continued to fall to his feet, overthinking the steps.

“Yuuri, look at me, not your feet.” Viktor teased, pouting to the best of his skill. “Are your feet really more interesting than I am?” He feigned insult, his big blue eyes trying their best to look offended.

“No, no of course not, I’m just… worried I’ll make a mistake.” Yuuri admitted.

“Just follow my lead, and don’t worry about making a mistake,” Viktor teased, pulling Yuuri closer to himself. “I’ll catch you if you fall, and if you step on my foot I’ll grin and bear it.” 

Yuuri snorted a laugh. “If you insist.” Yuuri smiled, and for the rest of the night that smile didn’t leave his cheeks. They began to ache as their dance wound down to an end, their feet began to hurt and their arms grew tired. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor cast a soft, kind glance down to where Yuuri had come to rest, their waltz having slowed to no more than gentle swaying and the tender holding of hands. Viktor's arm was still wrapped tightly around Yuuri's waist, Yuuri's left hand playing absently with a few silken strands of silver hair.

“Yes, Viktor?” Yuuri answered, looking up at him from where he was pressed to his chest. Viktor’s cheeks were flushed, his fringe fluttering in the slight breeze. He looked  _ nervous _ , the way he had appeared before all of this. 

Viktor’s lips pressed into a hard line, he was blushing down to his throat, and Yuuri felt himself wishing to taste him there. Viktor shook his head and laughed in that odd, guarded way.

"What were you going to ask?" Yuuri pushed, dancing his fingertips over Viktor’s wrist and an answering wave of scent filled his nose. Yuuri had ached to smell him again this way, to feel his warmth again.

"I wanted to say that you look beautiful tonight." Viktor said quietly, shutting his eyes to remember the words he had written down to say. "That starlight is dancing in your eyes, and the moonlight shines in your hair like the surface of the sea at midnight." His eyes flew open to see Yuuri's rapt gaze meeting his, a smile wider than the horizon stretching his lips. The smile with the little eye-crinkles, the one he'd fallen in love with.

"That was beautiful, Viktor. Thank you." Yuuri said, a contented purr resonating from his throat, surprising both of the men. "Oh, that's... I—” Yuuri blushed, ducking his face into Viktor’s chest. “I don't usually do that outside of my heats, I don't know what came over me." Yuuri explained, muffling his voice in Viktor’s shirt.

"It's because you're happy, isn't it?" Viktor asked, trying to keep his voice low and not burst with joy. He had made him purr.

"I... I think so." Yuuri replied, burying himself deeper into Viktor's chest and not pushing down the instinctive sound, the soft rolling of his vocal cords.

Viktor guided Yuuri's right hand to his chest, mirroring the position of Yuuri’s left. He wrapped long arms around Yuuri, pulling him in closer to himself and sighing into his hair.

“You mean so much to me." Viktor whispered into Yuuri’s hair, finally releasing the breath he had been holding, allowing the rumbling vibration of his crooning fill the air between them, a cloud of cherry and cedar wrapping them up in a world all their own.

"May I kiss you?" Viktor asked after a long while, his voice garbled by his crooning. “Please?”

Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat. They hadn't shared a kiss since his heat, and even those kisses were mostly tongues plundering mouths and teeth pulling at lips. 

“Yes. Please.” Yuuri answered, melting as Viktor leaned into his space. Viktor's hands cupped his jaw and slowly bent down, soft pink lips shining in the low light. Yuuri stood on his toes, bridging the gap left between their lips in a moment, his nose nestling into the soft crook of Viktor's.

The kiss was gentle, unhurried. There was no heated exploration, no demand for passage by teeth or tongue. Simply soft touch and small breaths against each other's skin. Yuuri's eyes fluttered shut, losing himself in the kiss. Viktor smelled so wonderfully  _ Viktor, _ it had his head spinning. They broke apart and shared the same thought in the quiet of their own minds.

_ Wow _ .

How either of them had survived without this closeness, the way they had fallen back into this so easily was completely beyond both of them. Viktor’s mouth was red and kiss-swollen, his sharp cheekbones flushed the same red, his eyes were blown wide and his chest heaved with the effort to get breath.

"Yuuri?" Viktor rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Arousal lurched in Yuuri’s stomach at the sight of him so ruined by a mere kiss.

"Yes, Viktor?"

“Stay with me tonight?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri could feel the throb of his heart in his chest. “Please. I can’t suffer another night alone.”

“Yes.” Yuuri answered with a kiss, pulling him down by the collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked the update! a little belated birthday gift for Yuuri, a chapter full of good things for him to enjoy. i live for comments, consider leaving one! (please!) (pretty please!)
> 
> <3 ia


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An obscene amount of silver, small admissions of vulnerability and sudden, violent change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains violence and mentions of Viktor's past lover.

“Yuuri, I have a task for you tonight.” The Captain said as Yuuri set down the dinner tray. He was dining with Christophe, and Yuuri's shoulders ached with the weight of carrying two dinners from the galley, mounted on the fatigue from a full day of scrubbing pots with Cookie.

“What would you have me do, Captain?” Yuuri responded, trying in vain to veil his bone-deep exhaustion. “Cookie already worked any salvageable conversation out of me, I fear I won’t be great company.”

“Oh nonsense, your company is always pleasant, Yuuri. Would you help me polish the silver, and spend the evening here?” Viktor asked, the tiniest gleam of mirth in his eyes. Yuuri perked up, as the thoughts running through his mind began to swim toward the sensuous, of feeling Viktor’s touch, of evenings spent with Viktor bleeding into mornings waking up with Viktor.

“Yes, Captain. I’ll return after supper.” Yuuri bowed with a tired smile and flushed cheeks and excused himself to the galley to finish supper preparations for the crew. He was wrung out like a dirty rag, but time spent with Viktor was never wasted these days.

“You besotted bastard.” Christophe teased his Captain, sipping his wine with a smirk.

When Yuuri returned to the Captain's quarters after dinner, Christophe had retired and Viktor was busy laying out every piece of silver he owned— an obscene amount, really. Yuuri knocked twice and entered at Viktor’s response. Candlesticks, ornate chains, a few knives, flasks, assorted pieces of silverware and a few ink pots covered the table.

“Please, darling. Sit with me. You know how much I love watching you work.” Viktor beckoned him over and pulled him into his arms, a deep sighing breath pulled the sweet cherry scent of him into Viktor’s nose. Yuuri smiled tiredly, curling into the contact further, inhaling the cedar and sea salt smell of the Captain's cotton shirt. Viktor laid a soft kiss on his mouth and mumbled a quiet 'you look beautiful tonight’ into the fullness of his lips. 

“Flatterer. I  _ look  _ exhausted.” Yuuri replied, the ease of conversation had begun to settle into his mind, growing confident enough to tease Viktor, something he would have thought impossible before. 

“And yet you still look beautiful.” Viktor replied dreamily and Yuuri laughed. He felt the azure weight of Viktor's eyes watching him as he laid out his materials, the polish, a tiny brush and a few clean rags. Yuuri cast a glance across the table, where Viktor was still watching with rapt attention, bright blue eyes soft and warm. Yuuri winked at him with a small smile and Viktor dramatically mimed fainting. They shared a sweet moment of laughter and smiles before Yuuri set to his task, enjoying the unhindered proximity, and the ever-growing trust between the two of them.

Yuuri was thrilled to be spending so much time with Viktor, and was unashamed to be feeling so. Viktor too, was greedily drinking up Yuuri’s attention like water to a man dying of thirst. Viktor reached across the table and cupped a strong, warm hand around Yuuri's cheek, who leaned in happily, purring softly at the contact. The room quickly filled with the intermingling scents of cherry and cedar and the sounds of slow, contented sighs from both of them. Viktor withdrew his hand with a brush of his fingers across Yuuri's jawline, sending a tiny shockwave down his spine. Viktor chuckled quietly at the goosebumps that rose from his flesh, the soft fluttering of his eyelids. Yuuri was breathtaking, and Viktor would do anything to see that Yuuri knew that as well.

“I wasn't just saying empty words, Yuuri. You look beautiful tonight. You always do.” The older man murmured in his rumbling timbre, the voice that soaked into Yuuri's skin like summertime sunshine.

“Thank you, Viktor.” Yuuri replied, still a bit floaty on the heady scents swirling around his head and into his nose. “You look beautiful tonight too.” The words fell out before Yuuri could be flustered by them, but even when his mind caught up to his mouth, he found that he wasn't the least bit embarrassed. Viktor was beaming with the compliment, and Yuuri felt warm down to his bones knowing what power his words had over Viktor. He felt a smile creep across his face and hummed deep in his chest.

He was happy, and so was Viktor.

Viktor fished his flask out of his pocket and placed it in front of Yuuri as he set about the work of polishing. His fingers burned from a full day of scrubbing, but at least he could sit down and spend the time with Viktor. It was his favorite flask, the one he always kept on hand. It was beautiful to behold, carved with exquisite silvery detail and inlaid with ebony and mother-of-pearl. Yuuri handed it back as soon as it was sparkling again, and Viktor immediately filled it with rum.

He sipped the liquor slowly, watching Yuuri’s hands intently. 

“Would you like to try?” Yuuri teased, expecting Viktor to laugh and shirk the responsibility, but he nodded eagerly and pulled his chair around to Yuuri’s side of the table. Yuuri watched, shocked as Viktor picked a clean rag from the pile and a silver compass from the pieces left to polish.

Yuuri opened the small pot of polish and dipped Viktor’s rag into it. “Like this,” he instructed, feeling something warm and unexpected crawl into his chest. He hadn’t taught anyone to do anything since attempting to teach Mari how to make dumplings on her own. 

Viktor nodded and set to work, rubbing the polish into his compass, and Yuuri was struck, once again, by how blue his eyes were, and the pink tip of his tongue pressed out between his lips as he concentrated. 

Captain Viktor Nikiforov, the most feared pirate on the high seas, was polishing his silver with the eager expression of a child discovering a new toy. Yuuri loved watching it unfold, reminding Viktor to rub in small circles and to not miss the hinge of the compass’s cover. His focus began to flag as the rum in his flask disappeared, and Yuuri took over again, working under Viktor’s watchful and adoring eye. He fended off requests to sit in Viktor’s lap, assuring his now quite tipsy Captain that he needed to finish his task first. 

“But Yuuuuuuri,” Viktor whined, pouting those soft lips at him with a batting of his eyelashes. “I like when you’re close to me.”   
  
“As soon as I’m finished, I’ll join you, Viktor.” Yuuri laughed and leaned back in his seat. “Tell me a story while I finish, it’ll go faster.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up like the summer sky and his request was forgotten; he launched into story after story of adventures to far-off lands and distant kingdoms. Yuuri had heard most of them before, but with every sozzled retelling, new and exciting details were added. They were (of course) mostly exaggerations, but Yuuri enjoyed the tales nonetheless. His stories stretched far into the night, becoming less coherent with every slurred word, devolving into giggle fits and Viktor forgetting what he was saying.

Most of the pieces Viktor had laid out for him had been polished to a mirror shine when the Captain had brought a bottle of sweet wine to the table. The polish brought a beautiful shine to the metal, but it burned Yuuri’s already irritated skin painfully. Short fingernails were worn down to the quick, and the polish stung the sensitive, pink skin there.

Yuuri swore when the sharp edge of the last blade bit into the tip of his finger, pulling a small bead of blood to the surface.

“Andrei, love, your finger’s bleeding, you need to stop. Lemme see.” Viktor pulled the dagger from Yuuri’s grasp and cradled his left hand in his right, inspecting the tiny cut in the whorl of his fingerprint. 

Yuuri’s heart clenched at the use of that name again, the wrong name. Things had been moving along swimmingly, but when he drank… the name often slipped out. Yuuri had previously despised when Viktor called him that, but it had mostly turned into a minor annoyance at worst. Despite his omega’s screaming, Yuuri knew better. It was no more than a slip of the tongue. Any hurt the name incurred was often simply heartache on Viktor’s behalf. Vestiges of Viktor’s past still clung to his heart, ghosts haunting him, haunting the ship, haunting his memories. A mate, a bonded mate, no less, was not a tie easily severed… even in death. 

Yuuri swallowed down the burst of sympathetic pain like a lump of hardtack. He could still see the faint silvery scarring on Viktor’s throat, where another had once laid claim. They would need to sort this out soon, but Yuuri knew that meant sifting through his own past too. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Viktor, my name is Yuuri. I am not Andrei, and you know that.” Yuuri said gently, “Hey. Look at me.” he directed, pulling Viktor from his examination of Yuuri’s hand, meeting his eyes with tenderness. _ “Honestly.” _ He huffed in his first language, the way his mother had done to Mari many thousands of times. “One of these days I'm going to revoke your rum privileges.” 

Viktor gently released his hand at the correction. The soft reprimand from the omega seemed to pull Viktor out of the drunkenness he had sunk into, and Yuuri watched as his shoulders and head fell with shame. Yuuri dabbed away the already-dried blood, the wound minor enough to seal up in moments.

“Yuuri. Gods, I'm sorry.” Viktor breathed as he shook his head, as if trying to escape a memory. 

Yuuri forgave him, as he always did. “I know. I know you are.”

“One last piece, if you don't mind? Then we’ll relax and we can… go to bed?” Viktor asked after he had returned to himself, accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder rolling over the water. Yuuri nodded as he watched Viktor remove the midnight sapphire ring from his right ring finger and place it in his outstretched hand. It was heavy and cold, despite the fact that the Captain was always wearing it. Yuuri couldn't remember a time that the ring was absent, recalling that he even wore it while he slept— and during the heat they had shared.

The mere act of polishing the ring felt intimate. He had surrendered a piece of himself to Yuuri, and the intensity of his glare led Yuuri to understand this ring was more than just a piece of jewelry. Viktor kept his eyes trained on the omega’s hands, watching intently as he gently polished, wiping away the grime of the day. He seemed to sink into his chair like it was swallowing him whole; his arms wrapped tightly across his chest. Yuuri couldn’t help but think about how small, how uncomfortable he looked.

“Be careful, please. This is very… precious to me.” Viktor murmured as Yuuri’s methodically swirling fingers made way toward the sparkling blue stone.

“I always am, Viktor.” He replied simply, yearning to know the significance of the ring. He barely noticed that he was releasing a swath of his calming scent, comforting the unease in Viktor’s alpha without a second thought. Viktor caught the gentle aroma of cherry and vanilla floating in the air and breathed deeply; it was Yuuri’s tenderness made physical, his presence a sweet and lingering taste on his tongue.

Another thunderclap rang out, but no lightning followed. Yuuri could have sworn it wasn't raining. They would have seen the storm coming and rerouted. Another clap. Followed by a bone-rattling tremor. That most certainly wasn't thunder. Viktor picked his head up tentatively, slowly; azure eyes searching, nostrils flaring. Yuuri smelled it the same time Viktor did. Gunpowder.

_ “Captain! We’re being boarded!”  _ Christophe’s voice, low and booming, came through the closed door of the cabin, startling Yuuri so much that he nearly dropped the ring. He heard it then, the clamor of footsteps, distant gunfire. And the  _ smell _ . Blood. 

The Captain leapt out of his seat, snatching his weapons off the wall where they hung proudly. That smallness, that vulnerability Yuuri had just seen melted away to seething rage. The hours of rum swigging suddenly had no effect on him, Viktor was now ready to command and defend. He yanked his hair into a tight knot on the top of his head, pulling so hard that Yuuri was sure a few strands had fallen to the floor. His golden earrings glinted in the dim light dangerously, a grim reminder of his Captain’s reputation. 

Viktor donned his leather coat and slung twin golden pistols into their holsters, his sword lay heavy and dangerous at his left hip. A sharp, spiced permutation of his cedar scent filled the room, overwhelming and angry.

“Yuuri, listen to me. You are to remain in the galley with Cookie. He will protect you. If something happens, take this. Use it if you need to.” He instructed, laying a pistol in Yuuri’s hand. “You will not move from your hiding place until I come to find you. Is that understood?” Viktor was radiating heat, fury rolled off his skin in waves; the rage in his voice had twisted into an Alpha Command, demanding Yuuri’s omega submit. 

“Yes, Viktor,” Yuuri replied, feeling the weight of the command holding him, circling him in the most comforting protection he could have imagined.

“ _ If _ you are found, point, cock, pull the trigger.” Viktor showed him the various mechanisms of the pistol in his hand, holding him by the wrist when Yuuri’s hands began to shake. “And here, wear this.” He handed Yuuri one of his coats, the black leather utterly drenched in his scent. He lifted Yuuri’s chin to meet his eyes, burning with fury. “It will help you hide you and mask your scent. My scent will help you keep calm. And love, please.” Viktor added, his hands shaking. “Wear this. It will keep you safe. Follow me.” Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and slid the heavy sapphire ring onto his right ring finger.

Viktor turned heel and sprinted to the door, throwing it open. Yuuri heard the screaming, the cannon fire and the clanging clamor of swords crossing, the ship was rocking with the skirmish. Despite the fear begging him to remain in the safety of the Captain’s cabin, in their den, Yuuri followed close behind. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and my mind was racing with the possible horrible outcomes of this fight.

Sprinting on the tails of Viktor’s coat, Yuuri was flying on instinct alone, pulled along by terror and Viktor’s hand holding his. The fear that constricted his throat compelled him to follow, his inner omega knowing the only safe option was to obey every word of his Alpha as gospel. Viktor and Christophe escorted Yuuri through the tight hallways of the  _ Stammi _ , pulling further and further from the clatter above deck. 

A loose board caught one of Yuuri’s bare feet, having left his boots behind in the panic of their escape. He felt the impact of his fall immediately, pain roaring through him like cannonfire. Yuuri yelped as he landed hard on his knee, his wrist, his shoulder. The pistol in his hand clattered to the ground, Chris quickly scooped it up and shoved it into the waistband of his trousers.

_ “Yuuri!”  _ The Captain bellowed over the din just one level above them. Cold dread gripped his stomach and he hurried to his side. He hoisted the omega into his arms like he had that first night of heat; Yuuri bit his lip at the pain radiating from his knee, threatening to make him lose his dinner.

“Yuuri, look at me. You’ll be okay. I promise.” Viktor chanted, trying to soothe Yuuri into silence, to lull his omega and help him stay hidden. “You’ll be okay. I’ll protect you. I swear it on my life.” The Captain and first mate picked up their pace again, diving deeper and deeper into the belly of the ship. 

Cookie was waiting in the galley, boarding up the animal’s pen and awaiting the arrival of the cargo he was to guard while Captain Nikiforov defended his ship, his crew and their treasure. The panic of the moment finally began to catch up to Yuuri and his mind began to swim, his hearing grew muddled. Black crept into the corners of his vision, his anxiety repeatedly informing him that this might be the last moment he would live with his Captain. His Alpha.

“Cookie, please. I would die without Yuuri’s safe return. Do your duty for me once again. Protect him. Keep him safe.” Viktor was frantic, the collected nature of Captain had melted away to nothing behind the safety of the galley door.

“O’ course, Cap’n. I’d give me life fer you. And fer Yuuri. I’ll see ya back here when those bastards are dead.” Cookie roared, an entirely different voice than his usually gentle timbre.

“Thank you. Gods bless you. Yuuri?” Viktor breathed into Yuuri’s ear, pulling him out of the cyclone of distress just barely enough to hear the Captain say, “Yuuri, I will come back for you. Wait for me here.” The world was spinning on a loosened axis, lopsided and topheavy, and Yuuri felt his stomach churn until Viktor held his cheeks in both hands. A sad, small sound was choked in Viktor’s throat as he kissed Yuuri’s lips. 

“I… I love you.” Viktor’s voice was quiet but thundered in Yuuri’s head, rattling him down to the pit of his stomach; Yuuri felt warm tears land on his cheeks, accompanying his own that were streaming down his face freely. 

“I love you too,” Yuuri replied, though his voice refused to make a sound. He lifted a shaky right hand and placed it over Viktor’s heart and pressed, wishing to push himself into Viktor’s skin, to go with him, to protect him as he ran into battle. A shaking sob ripped through Yuuri as the Captain held him tighter and laid his forehead against Yuuri's for a moment, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

Viktor eased Yuuri into Cookie’s arms, who had left a small opening in the boards for Yuuri to slip into the hold. He tucked the pistol into one of the pockets of Yuuri’s borrowed coat and took off above deck again, barking orders to his second-in-command as they sprinted down the hall and up the ladder.

“There you go, darlin’. Stay here with the girls,” Cookie helped Yuuri into the stock hold with the promise of safety, and even though bending his injured knee brought fresh tears to his eyes and he pulled blood from his bottom lip to stifle any noise. “You heard the Cap’n. Don’ move until he comes fer ya. I’ll be righ’ outside that door. I’ll be damned if I let even one a’ those bastards so much as smell ya.” 

The animals had hunkered down in their respective spaces, leaving Yuuri alone for the moment; Yuuri was glad for the dark, enclosed hiding place. His omega needed it. He felt safe. The borrowed coat surrounded Yuuri in a dense fog of his Alpha’s scent, heavy and warm. But his mind swirled with every worst possible ending to this nightmare. Terror and anxiety wrapped him in binds, shaking him like the last autumn leaf to fall. The screeching of a table set in front of the barricade further secured his secret place, and the tell-tale sound of Cookie’s pistol being cocked set his mind at ease, if only for a moment.

Viktor’s final words still rang in his ears. He had said “I love you”, and that was the worst part. He loved him too. But he may have just seen the last of his beautiful face, of his ocean eyes and the heart-shaped smile. The man behind a mask, the man who had both stolen him from his home and betrayed his trust and had saved him from a torturous heat in the belly of a rocking ship. Who had just begun to prove his contrition. 

Yuuri was beginning to understand life and love, as his Mama had implored him. It was messy, complicated. Nothing like what he read in books. Love was work. Love was a fine golden thread, tangled with threads of discomfort and sacrifice, compromise and intention. He was in love with Captain Viktor Nikiforov, and he might never see him alive again. He turned up the collar of the coat, inhaling the musk deeply. He spun the ring around his finger, saying a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Viktor would be returned to him, that his Alpha would come back for him.

* * *

“All cannons portside! Fire all rounds! No mercy for the damned, boys!” Viktor forced everything into the alpha command, roaring above the din of gunfire and clashing swords. His vision tinged red as he lost himself in the thick of the skirmish. “Push 'em back!”

_ Yuuri. Yuuri. Yuuri. Protect Yuuri. Keep omega safe, _ Viktor's alpha screamed as the onslaught persisted, waves upon waves of men pouring over the railings and cannonfire filling his ears. Christophe was at his back as always, his own blade seeing its fair share of blood. It felt unending, but the sheer number of slain reminded him of his duty. His instinct drove him ever faster,  _ defend, protect, defend, protec _ t, it roared under his skin as the flash of his blade in the moonlight met its target.

Viktor would never tire of the battle, of the vicious clang of steel on steel, the flashes of yellow and orange of pistol fire as bullets met their mark, the thud of cannons blasting through creaking wood. The way the full moon cast the deck in shades of blue and grey, dancing shadows of sailors that seemed to join the fray on all sides. Of the deck growing slick with the blood of the fools who dared think they stood a chance against him. Of needling cries rising into the air as his crew defended the ship, those damned souls stupid enough to cross blades with the likes of them.

The brilliant glow of a fluttering sail on fire lit a fallen foe gruesomely, “Captain, ye smell like omega.” the man growled, guttural and rasping as he held a mangled hand against the wound in his neck. Viktor could have snapped the man clean in half with the clench of his jaw alone, as he drew a golden pistol from its holster and fired between his eyes. The man’s blood painted a beautiful picture, tracing crimson lines over pallid skin and running into the old boards of the  _ Vicino’s  _ deck.

Viktor didn’t fall prey to bloodlust often. Usually, he and Chris playfully kept tallies as their foes fell around them. That was before he had someone to protect on board. Viktor wanted every single one of these scum dead. At his blade, his pistol, his bare hands, it didn’t matter. They had threatened  _ his  _ Yuuri’s safety, and Viktor felt no remorse for the man dead at his feet.

_ Yuuri. Keep Yuuri safe. _

Viktor stole a quick glance at the branded mark on the dead man’s hand; the clear X burned into his skin marking him and likely the rest of the crew as enemies of all. Someone clearly exiled by the Republic in Sanisia, for committing crimes deemed inexcusable by even a pirate’s logic. Viktor shuddered at the thought of who he was facing, what atrocities had banned them from a pirate’s safe harbor. 

Clanging swords grated against Viktor’s eardrums as he forced back the memory of that night. Bullets screamed around him and into the water, as the smell of battle filled his nostrils and unfamiliar voices screamed around him.

"Hah! Twenty already!" Christophe’s laugh was cold as he flung a dagger from his belt, the wind whistling past as it flew to embed itself between the shoulder blades of a marauder. "What's your count, Captain?"

Viktor tried not to think about the past as another sailor fell to his blade, toppling over the rail and into the ocean. He tried not to think about that fateful night, about the cold that sank into his fingers and toes as he felt him breathe his last, the empty, aching blackness as their bond faded… a hard knock to his back and a shout of his name snapped him back to the moment as a stealthy blade barely nicked the cleft of his chin. Viktor quickly reoriented and ensured the man ran himself through on his sword.

“Viktor, don't get yourself killed thinking about him.” Chris growled as he pushed sweat-damp curls out of his eyes. “Yuuri needs you to come back alive.” Viktor nodded, lifting the hilt of his blade to his forehead.  _ Thank you for saving my life, _ the gesture said. Chris mirrored,  _ you're welcome. _

A deep breath pulled the scents of smoke and gunpowder and blood into his nose. Viktor laid his right hand against his hammering heart, the spot Yuuri had last touched. Yuuri was with him there, beneath his skin. His Yuuri, hiding below deck. Waiting for him. He let Yuuri’s warmth fill his head and his lungs and push away the cold seeping into his limbs. He would keep fighting. For Yuuri.

_ Yuuri. _

Blind fury coursed through the Captain's veins, his senses filling with the heat of battle, the smell of blood, the thump of every treacherous heartbeat that dared to harm his love. His lips curled back into a vicious snarl, a guttural growl ripped from his mouth as he brought his blade down through yet another vengeful fool. His instincts screamed at him to  _ protect _ , not only Yuuri but his crew, the sailors who trusted him, who had stood with him in the face of mutiny all those months ago. Viktor’s instinct demanded retribution, and he ceased to exist. He was no longer Viktor Nikiforov. He was the Captain of the  _ Stammi Vicino _ . And the Captain demanded the safety of his omega. Above all else, the Captain demanded the lives of all who dared enter his territory.

He landed a strong kick to the chest of the man on his left, a quick pistol shot to the head on the quarterdeck. A grand sweep of his sword caught a jugular.  _ Parry, ward, slash, jab, repeat. _ His training with a broomstick in the belly of a cargo hold all those years ago came to him easily as breathing, and he barely registered his alpha growling Yuuri's name like a prayer as his enemies fell. The rising sun was beginning to tint the Eastern sky blue-grey.

“Captain! The horizon!” the lookout called from above, pointing to the enemy vessel. The high-pitched voice called Viktor from his rage, meeting the boy's eye. From his vantage atop the mainsail, his wild golden hair caught the rising sun before the rest of the ship did. Viktor's eyes snapped to the horizon line. A small rowboat was being hoisted out of the water and pulled aboard. Viktor finished his opponent with a rather unfair shot to the bridge of his nose, grimacing a bit at the warm splash of blood against his cheek. He pulled his spyglass out of his pocket and trained it on the escaping thieves, pushing a chest up over the railing.

The chest marked with a fucking skull and crossbones, the one that screamed of its own counterfeit that Viktor had left in a painfully obvious place. The one so obviously full of false gold and treasure it wouldn't have fooled a child. The grey of early morning was too dim to make out much, but Viktor could see the faces of a few former crewmen. A disgruntled band of sailors who had been prematurely released of their contracts a few years back. Whispers of mutiny had reached Viktor in time, and though he had allowed the insurrectionists to live, their hatred for him had not faded. 

He knew their leader and where they made their home. Retribution would be swift and complete. Even if they didn’t make off with any real treasure. Viktor might have laughed at their idiocy, that they had fallen for the decoy. But his blood chilled. 

If they had that chest, they had been below deck. 

Viktor felt himself seeking Yuuri through a bond that didn’t exist.  _ No bond. Where's Yuuri? Where’s mate? Where’s Yuuri? No bond? No bond, no Yuuri?  _ His alpha spiraled at the black emptiness where a bond should have been, where a warm tug might have met his call. The Captain whirled around with a rumbling roar in his chest. A quick scan of the deck confirmed the fighting had ended, and most importantly, all casualties were strangers; his own crew had only suffered minor injuries. Good.

“Do not let them escape your fucking sight until I'm back. Set course for Sanisia.” He snarled darkly to his first mate, sharp canines bared and lips curled back dangerously. Chris saluted tiredly and began barking orders to the crew, beginning the exhausting task of making bodies disappear. Viktor took off running, throwing doors open and taking the ladders two rungs at a time.

The dull roar of explosions and muffled screaming shook Yuuri to his core, begging to the gods that it would all just stop, that he could hear Viktor’s voice again. He had tucked himself into the furthest corner of his hiding place, legs curled into his chest so tightly he could barely breathe, despite the searing pain in his right knee. His mind continued to race; he was overwhelmed by the onslaught of endless horrid possibilities of this battle. He knew in his heart that Viktor was adept in combat, and he had no reason to worry himself sick over his Alpha. But he couldn’t shake the fear of losing him. He had just confessed his love to Yuuri, and he had been unable to share his own confession; that he was in love too.

The cannonfire had ceased and Yuuri heard no more men shouting, but dared not move. He could hear Cookie's labored breathing beyond the cabinet door, but nothing else other than creaking boards. And quickening footsteps.

_ “Yuuri!” _ His voice bellowed through the narrow hall, strained and tired, nearly cracking with panic. “ _ Where is my Yuuri?”  _ Yuuri’s heart soared at the sound of Viktor’s voice, a tired, chirping purr rolling off his tongue.

“He’s here, Cap’n. Safe and sound.” Cookie replied tiredly, opening the galley door. Viktor flung the table out of the way and pried away the boards separating them. The burst of light stung Yuuri’s eyes and blinded him, if only for a moment. Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hand and pulled him fast into his arms.

Yuuri collapsed into the embrace, his arms scrambling for purchase of firm flesh and touch, warbling slurred repetitions of "Alpha". Yuuri whimpered a barely-coherent thanksgiving to the gods for Viktor's safe return. The Captain was covered in a sheen of sweat and spattered with blood, but that mattered little in the early hours of that morning; his Alpha was alive and had returned for his Omega. 

Yuuri threw his arms around Viktor’s neck, inhaling his calming scent from its source, the skin warm and damp with sweat. The Captain’s right hand had wound itself into Yuuri’s hair, holding him to his chest and coiling his left arm around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri could feel his heart pounding, but beginning to slow. The pair slowly slid to the floor of the galley, wrapped tightly in each other's arms and scents. The silver stubble on his chin rubbed sharply against his cheek, but he didn’t mind. Both his and Viktor’s tears ran down his cheeks, splashing on the bony outcrop of his collarbones.

“Thank the gods you’re safe.” Viktor whispered into his raven hair. “I don't know what I would have done if…  _ Yuuri—” _ he couldn't continue, his throat tightening around the words.

“Viktor... you came back.” Yuuri murmured in response, tears choking him again. Viktor's watery eyes met his as he looked up, the usually bright cerulean a dim blue-grey, weary and worn. Viktor captured Yuuri's lips in a kiss and cradled him against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the raid, Viktor and Yuuri grow closer.

The throbbing in his knee dragged Yuuri into the living world, cocooned by Viktor’s and his scents, wrapped in white down and soft blankets. He shook the dull emptiness of sleep from his mind and tried to remember how he’d gotten from the galley to bed. Viktor’s bed. Their bed, perhaps… at that point it might as well have been. Viktor was nowhere to be seen, the other side of the bed was cold. Yuuri’s heart fell at his absence… he had been aching to wake in the same bed as Viktor for so long.

Sunlight streamed into the room and Yuuri’s eyes slowly began to adjust. He sat up slowly, taking in the still beauty of the room. Tiny specks of dust floated through the air, dancing in the afternoon sunlight. His right leg was heavy with pain, swollen at the knee from his fall the night before. There was a slight throb in his temples, surely a remnant of the previous night’s excitement, but it quickly began to fade as he sipped from the canteen on the nightstand.

Nature compelled him to move to the privy, and Yuuri carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. The sensation of bare feet on the hardwood floor brought memories of morning dances at the tavern, of the morning that Viktor surprised him with a compliment. He felt silly, looking back at it, at how he had tried to ignore his attraction to Viktor after the heat they had shared, fighting against his nature to abandon the alpha he had so clearly fallen for.

Viktor had met him pound for pound, meeting him precisely where he was. The pleasant thoughts were undercut when he put weight on his leg, finding his knee swollen and difficult to move. Yuuri moved as quickly as he could to the privy, walking with an uncomfortable limp. 

The cabin was quiet and still, swaying gently with the movement of the ocean below. Yuuri moved slowly, listening to the way the boards creaked below his feet. Nothing had felt so close to home as this, the great cabin of a pirate’s vessel. It had become a sort of home, the safest place he could have imagined for himself. The Captain was there, those eager eyes and tentative touches were there. Soft kisses were there. Viktor was there. The thought of Viktor had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

The exhaustion hit him all at once and he clung to the privy’s door frame— the stress of the night before had finally caught up to him. It was surprising that he hadn't dropped, all things considered. The raid had him jumping at the slightest noise, his heart racing with tension. Staying below deck in his hiding place had tested his patience more than anything, but the sounds of gunfire and Cookie's angered swearing clung to his memory. It swirled around him, choking him like thick smoke.

A whisper of Viktor's scent caught in his nose and Yuuri breathed it in gratefully, clinging to it like a life preserver. After he had caught his breath, he made his way into the privy, the call of nature overriding the anxiety.

In the privy of the great cabin hung a looking-glass, framed by ornate golden vines, twisted and intermingling like the sprawling arms of fabled, tentacled sea creature. Small gilded leaves and roses dotted the frame, sharp thorns dared onlookers to touch and deem them as dangerous as the real thing. It glittered in the morning light, its twisted vines like woven sunlight. 

Yuuri was hypnotized, but not by the ornate decoration of it— by what, or rather, who he saw reflected in the glass. 

He had always avoided his own reflection, both in fear of vanity and for fear of what he might see. He hadn’t had the luxury of seeing his own face in a looking-glass since leaving home, and since then had only ever stolen brief glances in dirty windows and in pails of mucky water. But in the silvery reflection, he could see all of himself, every feature, every dip and curve of his soft jaw and every blemish of his skin. His strong eyebrows, the same shade as his messy midnight hair, which now fell past his collarbones. His lips were so full and soft, slightly pointed just beneath his small nose. He understood why it was called a Cupid’s Bow, the point of it arched like the cherub’s drawn bow.

He didn’t expect to be so unable to define the color of his own eyes; they were a deep, sun-warmed mahogany, speckled with gold. The pale pink scar on his chin from the jagged edge of a broken bottle. Dark semi-circles under his eyes from the stress of the night, faint lines around lips and between eyebrows from the strain of work. Small wrinkles around the outside corners from near-constant squinting; his eyesight had been getting worse. The sweat had run down his temples the night before, streaking lines through the dirt he had accrued since his last bath.

Curiosity overtook his fear of vanity, having been denied the small luxury since leaving home. He began untying the lacing of his cotton shirt, something compelling him to bare it all to his own eyes. How long had it been since he had seen all of himself?

He pulled his shirt up over his shoulders, letting the material fall in a puddle around his feet. His skin seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun. The kiss of cool air caused his nipples to pebble, small and dusky like rose petals. Any softness he had retained from his days helping his mother in the kitchen were long gone, Yuuri’s stomach was flat but his hips remained wide, his thighs soft and alluring. Soft black hair curled at the meeting of his thighs. 

Bruises dotted his body; knees, elbows, his hips and thighs where countertops and door jambs got in the way. Yuuri balked at the sight of the ugly purple contusion that marred the cap of his knee where he had fallen. 

The pain was a minor distraction from the moment; the tension, the swelling was suddenly too much. He sat himself on the chamberpot, taking advantage of the moment to catch his breath and relieve himself. His hair stuck to the back of his neck uncomfortably, surely telling of a poor night's sleep… he tied it back messily for the moment, and smoothed a cooling balm into his tender skin before standing again. 

When he met his reflection again, he could barely recognize himself. This body was so different from the one he had known; this body had narrow shoulders, a trim, tapering waist. He had never known his face to look so striking, so… handsome. He ran testing fingers down the line of his jaw, half expecting the reflection not to follow the movement. 

“Good morning,” Viktor’s voice said from behind him. Yuuri startled at the sudden noise, Viktor’s hands wrapping around his waist. His eyes met Viktor's as he coiled himself around Yuuri languidly, gently.

“Look at you, darling. Absolutely breathtaking.” Viktor murmured into the crook of his shoulder. “You are truly a work of art.” The gentleness in his voice warmed Yuuri from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. Leaning in, Viktor laid a kiss in the hollow of his throat, tender and tempting. Yuuri watched the way Viktor's lips curled as he kissed his flesh, the hungry flare of his nostrils as he breathed in Yuuri’s scent.

The sight of them was captivating, as Yuuri slowly began to reconcile the two images of himself; that the being in the looking-glass was, in fact, himself. His breath hitched, enraptured by the sight of the two of them, Viktor curled around him so protectively, scenting him as though he would never take another breath of him again. Azure eyes focused on him so intently, so singularly, the two looked for all the world like a proper pair.

He inhaled sharply as he began throbbing between his legs, his cock twitching slightly as it rose. Yuuri felt himself yearning under the attention, begging for more contact.

“Th-thank you,” he managed to choke out through his arousal. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Viktor’s lips, clearly enjoying the reaction he was receiving. He grasped a tendril of raven hair and twisted it around his finger. It gleamed like polished ebony in the light streaming through the windows of the cabin.

“The mirror finally has a visage worth framing.” Viktor replied softly, slowly released Yuuri’s hair and a sad noise escaped Yuuri’s throat at the loss of contact. From the reflection in the looking-glass, Yuuri noticed the pillow and blanket thrown across the davenport, where he immediately realized Viktor had been sleeping… he had displaced the Captain once again.

“Viktor, did you sleep there?”

“If you can call what happened there sleeping, yes. I think I may have dozed for a few minutes. I wanted to make sure you were safe.” The dark shadows under Viktor’s eyes were glaringly obvious to Yuuri now, the mark of a restless night. “Regardless. I don’t usually sleep well after a raid, especially when we're the target.” Viktor hurried to supply another reason other than his lovesick worrying. “Luckily those dolts did a very poor job and didn't get their hands on anything valuable. I spent most of the night planning our retaliation.”

Yuuri blew out a slow breath. “Thank you for protecting me last night.” He captured the eyes of the Captain in the mirror, attempting to convey just how grateful he truly was. “But you could have joined me in the bed. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly, the tiniest flicker of want passing over his features. Yuuri had begun to understand how to see through the Captain’s mask, to see Viktor below it. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you. Your injury needed to be left well alone. I know my limits, and you are too great a temptation to refuse.” Yuuri watched that glimmer fan into flame; Viktor’s eye contact was blistering as ever; a dark gleam to the aquamarine shone beneath the surface.

“Viktor?”

“Yes, Yuuri?”

“Why me? Why, of all the omegas I’m sure you’ve had, did you choose me? You could have your pick of anyone under the sun. Why me?”

Viktor was taken aback at the question, as he had no clear answer to the query he’d been asking himself since his infatuation began over a year ago. Quickly shaking off the surprise, Viktor wrapped his arms around him from behind, fingertips tracing the curves and lines of his torso. Yuuri's eyes tracking the movement of his hands and the wandering paths the alpha’s eyes followed across his body.

“Have you not been admiring yourself in the mirror? Can't you see how beautiful you are?" Yuuri forced himself to look again, met with those cherry wine eyes and a pink flush crawling down his throat and collarbones. "I chose you because you struck me. My alpha was drawn into you, pulled to you like the tide. I chose you because I knew that if I didn’t, someone else would. And every instinct in my body screamed at that thought, that another person might have you instead of me. I know it’s rather selfish of me, but I couldn’t bear coming back to that damned tavern without you on my arm.”

Yuuri squirmed under Viktor’s touch as he continued, his cock still hard and throbbing in his trousers. He leaned into Viktor, pressing himself closer into his warmth and steadying himself against Viktor’s body.

“I always had this terrible thought… of ravishing you on that table. The night before we left, in fact, I dreamt of it and when I woke, I could swear I heard the sounds I’d dreamt of coming through the walls.” Viktor traced the lines of Yuuri’s full lips, pulling at the lower until his mouth fell open gently. Yuuri pressed a kiss into the pad of Viktor’s thumb, encouraging him to continue. “The restraint it required… oh, I’ve never felt anything like it. The urge to throw open your door and take you at that very moment nearly overwhelmed me.”

“I would have enjoyed that.” Yuuri replied, smiling softly at the way Viktor’s scent began to fill the room. A small burst of pride swelled in his chest. He had heard him that night. Yuuri was far past caring at that point, all attempts at modesty had been tossed out the window long before that afternoon.

“Would you have, love?” Viktor growled against Yuuri’s throat, cupping him through his pants and palming at the soft curve of his ass. Yuuri whined, rocking back into his groin. “Would you have wanted me to take you apart there in that loft?”

Yuuri bit his lip and nodded, a shaky moan falling from his lips. “Y-yes,” Yuuri managed, his core tightening as Viktor’s hand worked him through his trousers. “Viktor, I-”

Yuuri cut himself off with a sharp gasp as he lost his balance, putting too much weight on his injured knee. He yelped and Viktor immediately pulled his hand away, the cold shocking Yuuri’s skin— his cock had begun to leak through his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor rushed to apologize, Yuuri’s face twisted in pain seared itself into Viktor’s mind. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri forced out through gritted teeth, “Bed, please. Need to lie down.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri into his arms and carried him there, pushing out a strong wave of soothing scent; he hoped it was enough to help. When he was settled in bed again, Viktor took his place at his side, resting a careful hand on Yuuri's hip. 

“It must have been obvious that I wanted you, back then. If that idiot saw fit to sell you to me as a whore.” Viktor’s eyes fell, breaking the gaze he had been sharing with Yuuri. “I suppose it worked out surprisingly well in hindsight, despite…” His hands stilled, falling to tight fists at his sides. “I am so, so sorry, Yuuri.” His voice weak and broken, the usual timbre shaken and wavering. “I can't possibly say it enough. I don't deserve your kindness, I don't deserve your trust. I don’t know how you could ever forgive me after how I treated you.” 

Yuuri could feel Viktor shaking, he could smell his usual musk tinged with something ugly, something acrid and sour. Yuuri reached a hand up to twine into his rumpled silver hair, drawing his eye contact again.

“Viktor, look at me.” Yuuri caught Viktor’s face in his hands, demanding those blue eyes meet his own. “I’ve already forgiven you. I accepted your apology the night you broke your hand. You know that.” He wished he could pull those three words out of his chest, to tell Viktor that he loved him too. But the words caught in his throat again. He repeated the gesture from the night before, laying his right palm atop Viktor's heart.

“I remember what you told me last night,” Yuuri whispered and Viktor closed his eyes, trying to remember what exactly he had said in the mess of the raid. His memory was hazy, tinted red with rage and adrenaline.

“You told me that you loved me, Viktor. And… I think now is an excellent time to mention that I’m still wearing your ring.” There was the ring, heavy and loose on Yuuri’s right ring finger, pressed against his chest. Another swell of ugly memories threatened to pull Viktor under, the sound of Andrei’s last breath burned in his ears. “Viktor, look at me. I’m right here.” Yuuri said, tenderly calling Viktor back.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Viktor trailed off, his voice weak and distant.

“Would you let me into those thoughts with you?” Yuuri asked, holding Viktor’s cheek in his hand. His voice was so soft, so sweet, like a single bead of honey, and yet... “I might be able to help-”

“No,” came the abrupt retort, and Yuuri recoiled at the sudden outburst. “I... I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Would you like the ring back for now?” Yuuri asked gently, a bit saddened to be giving up the token of the Captain’s affection.

“No, please.” Viktor replied, closing long fingers around Yuuri's right hand. “Keep it.” 

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal." Yuuri laughed, smiling up at him.

“Of sorts, I suppose.” Viktor’s heart-shaped smile returned, the soft beginnings of tears barely formed in his eyes. 

Yuuri ached for the lack of strength to pull Viktor down into a kiss. "Kiss me." Yuuri demanded instead, and Viktor's laugh dripped with teary joy. Their lips met perfectly, like coming home, like a warm hearth on a cold night. Viktor sighed against his lips, carefully holding himself above Yuuri. The kiss was slow and soft, unhurried and wonderful. 

Viktor pulled away with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to Yuuri's forehead.

“Is your knee still hurting you? Your shoulder?” The doting alpha in Viktor had resurfaced, casting a wide swath of protective pheromones over the bed. Yuuri breathed the heavy scent deeply, warmed by it from the inside out, like their morning coffee.

“It does,” Yuuri flinched as he attempted to adjust in the bed. Viktor tutted at the attempt, tucking a pillow under the joint to support it. "Thank you, Viktor."

“You may be bedridden for a few days, would you like to pick a book or two? Is there anything you'd like to learn about?” Viktor tossed the question over his shoulder as he strode toward the bookshelves lining the starboard wall of the cabin.

“Do you have any Northern cookbooks by chance?” Yuuri called after him, half-joking.

“Hmm, I believe so. Let me check.” After a few moments of searching, Viktor drew a tome from the shelf. “There are a lot of native ingredients that I doubt have been translated into the Common Tongue, but it’s something. I can help if anything is difficult to decipher.” 

“Perfect,” Yuuri chimed in reply, watching with a satisfied smile as Viktor flushed a deep red. “I’ve been wanting to learn a few recipes. Stew and potatoes are getting a bit old in the galley.”

Viktor laughed as he left the thick, leatherbound book in Yuuri’s hand. “I hope you can find something other than stew and potatoes in there, love.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find something,” Yuuri teased in reply, as he flipped through the first few pages. There were a few pages with crisp, hand-written notes in the margins of the type-set recipes, in the Northern language that Yuuri knew would need translations. As Viktor sat down at his desk with his back to Yuuri, both of them let out a slow breath of relief, feeling for the first time in days like they could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of you original readers spot the difference >:'D
> 
> see y'all next week!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Stammi_ arrives at port in Sanisia and Yuuri welcomes a new crewmate aboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Sanisia is a pirate colony based loosely on the historical Nassau Port, which was run by a whole ass pirate government! Fun!

Yuuri was pulled from sleep gently, with a low, soothing rumble from behind him— the warmth of Viktor’s body pressed against his back. A small stretch of his spine pushed him closer into his touch, savoring the sensation of Viktor’s careful hands twisting intricate plaits into his hair.

“Good morning,” Yuuri answered the touch quietly, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Good morning, Yuuri.” Viktor’s thick accent had emerged, as it usually did upon waking. Yuuri shuddered at the sound, warm down to the bones. “We arrived at port during the night.”

“Did we?” Yuuri asked, rolling onto his side and curling into Viktor’s touch, surely disrupting whatever braiding he was doing, but warmth was the first priority. “I don’t remember.”

“You were asleep, lovely,” Viktor explained, kissing his forehead and cheeks. “We’ve arrived in Sanisia.”

Yuuri had known their destination for a while, having been told so in the aftermath of the raid. He had asked to learn about the infamous pirate port, having only heard of it in passing before now, before it was of great concern to him, now aboard a pirate vessel. Once a wild and uninhabitable island in the middle of the Great Sea, a band of pirates claimed her a safe haven for all those living outside the law, erecting a government, laws and codes, from the ground up. It was a marvel of innovation that had yet to fall to conquest by any of the surrounding nations, surviving sieges and battles innumerable. 

A Governor was the reigning authority, democratically elected, unlike many of the sovereign kingdoms with their hereditary kings and corrupt parliaments. The Governor and their advisors were chosen by those who remained permanently on Sanisia’s shores, as well as a handful of roaming Captains and sailors who had once called the sprawling port home. Viktor, Yuuri had learned, was one of those, and frequented the isle and the Governor’s debate hall.

“I’m by no means a politician,” Viktor retched at the very word. “Don’t lump me in with the swine. But I have been known to nudge more than a few arguments in the right direction.”

Yuuri had laughed and teased him for such a thing. “The feared pirate, Viktor Nikiforov, known for leaving no grievance unpunished, giving a speech in pirate parliament.”

Viktor choked on his drink and kissed him until the point was dropped. 

“What business do you have in Sanisia?” Yuuri asked, watching as Viktor’s expression shifted. His jaw clenched tight, anger seethed in his eyes and Yuuri ducked into the crook of his neck. 

“I owe the Governor a visit,” Viktor answered through gritted teeth. "I’ll be visiting for most of the next few days. Terribly uninteresting business, I'm afraid."

The lie was so clear Yuuri swore he could taste it. "Viktor. Why are we here?" he pressed, a burst of courage daring him to challenge Viktor. 

Viktor sighed, low and exhausted. "The men who attacked us deserve to pay for threatening you." He answered, his jaw still tight, his frame rigid. "I want them excommunicated. They deserve no safe harbor, even among our kind."

"Viktor—" Yuuri began, but his words would not come. His mouth fell open in shock, the bite in Viktor's voice rendered him nearly unrecognizable as Viktor.

"They could have _killed you,_ Yuuri, do you understand?" Viktor's voice broke, weak and watery. "Your life has been in my hands since the moment you stepped onto this ship and twice you have faced mortal peril. Allow me to make this small penance for my sins."

Yuuri's mind ran wild. _Twice?_ What exactly had happened during his heat? What had Viktor done beyond caring for him, protecting him? He reached back into his mind, scrambling for any semblance of a memory of those three days. There, in the murky dark, was the briefest glimmer of something— the thick, heady scent of blood, the stench of someone else on Viktor’s skin. 

Yuuri gasped as things fell into place, fear melting into a unique kind of sinking guilt. 

“Cao Bin.” Yuuri breathed, his hands covering his mouth as he bit back nausea. “He… he tried to-”

Viktor tore his eyes away, nodding. The air smelled acrid and sour, threatening to choke both of them. “He _tried_.” Viktor repeated, a shuddering sigh rustling the fine hair hanging in front of his face, still messy with sleep. “I didn’t jettison him when I should have, and he attempted a mutiny. He attempted to-”

Viktor cut himself off, swallowing thickly against the memory of it. He remembered it faintly, through the haze of adrenaline and rage.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri said softly, running his fingers through Viktor’s hair. The pain in Viktor’s scent dissipated slowly, fading gently; it still clung to the pillows and bedclothes around them, heavy and sour.

“Please, Yuuri. Don’t.” Viktor breathed. “This is entirely my fault. Let me carry the burden of this.” Yuuri said nothing, holding his tongue and pushing himself closer into Viktor’s space, everything around him swirling with unknowns. “I’m so sorry to drag you into this.”

“I chose to stay, Viktor.” Yuuri replied in the quiet of their cabin, into the warmth of Viktor’s bare chest. “You gave me the choice, and I stayed.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Viktor breathed, his voice pained in a way that struck Yuuri in the worst way. “You shouldn’t have trusted me, not after I betrayed your trust the first time.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I wanted to trust you. I knew that there was more to know, and I knew I couldn’t walk away.” Yuuri held Viktor’s cheeks in his hands, pulling the Captain’s gaze back to his own. “Believe me, Viktor.”

Viktor shuddered a wet sigh and nodded, burying his nose in Yuuri’s throat, pulling in heavy lungfuls of Yuuri’s calming scent. 

“Viktor, will you braid my hair like yours?” came Yuuri’s question after a while, as if any request for touch could possibly be denied. Viktor had been braiding his hair in the western style for years, until Christophe taught him how to tuck strands in as he braided, securing everything in place without the need for a fixative oil. His hair always unwound itself in the normal style and a loose tail was quickly dismissed... Viktor had pulled one too many silver hairs from his own mouth for his liking. 

“Of course, I’d love to.” Viktor answered, motioning for Yuuri to turn.

Yuuri adjusted, sitting himself in the middle of the massive bed. He had made himself comfortable in the time since the raid, having been kept under Viktor’s watchful eye as he recovered. The bed was now thoroughly scented by both of them, a permanent nest now covered the mattress on all sides. Viktor would never complain.

With a hairbrush, a comb and a vial of oil in hand, Viktor sat behind him, wrapping long legs around his back. Sectioning off Yuuri’s thick curtain of black hair, Viktor set about brushing out the tangles; they were entirely unavoidable, with how easily Yuuri’s hair grew messy as he slept. Viktor worked as gently as he could, listening to the small, pleased sounds Yuuri made as he combed. 

When Viktor had finally rid Yuuri of the knots and tangles, he poured some of the oil into his palms and ran his fingers through it; the oil worked immediately, taming the fine flyaways and smoothing it to a gleaming shine like ebony in the morning light.

Viktor began braiding at the crown of Yuuri’s head, leaving behind a few loose strands to frame his face the way it ought to be framed. The long plait perfectly bisected his upper back when he had finished, the length of it hung between his narrow shoulder blades. Viktor tied off the bottom of the plait with a leather thong, and Yuuri beamed as he pulled the thick braid over his shoulder to inspect it.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, breathing in the scent of Viktor’s happiness. It was thick and heady in his nose like incense, warm and musky like autumn leaves. 

“It’s only beautiful because it’s made of you, Yuuri.” Viktor kissed his cheek lightly, smiling as he took a long drag of Yuuri’s scent. Yuuri blushed and smiled, leaning a bit to the side, allowing Viktor a better angle to scent him. He relaxed into Viktor’s chest, happily purring at the warmth of his skin and the wet breaths against his throat. Viktor’s breaths grew heavier, thicker, and Yuuri’s did too, wandering hands began dancing under the sheets, stroking the curves of his thighs.

“Charmer,” Yuuri breathed as Viktor’s lips opened at his throat, a wet kiss pressed just above his collar. “Touch me,” he directed, moving Viktor’s hands to the sleep-warm places he ached for Viktor to touch— his chest, nipples pebbling with arousal, and between his legs, where he was beginning to grow hard. 

“Yes, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered low against his throat, his huffing breaths hot on Yuuri’s skin. “Perfect, beautiful Yuuri.”

Yuuri gasped as Viktor’s hands cupped him in every perfect way, touching him in ways he had only felt in the thick of his heat. He could vaguely remember the touch, the sensations, but all of it paled in comparison to the moment that Viktor’s hand wrapped around his cock and stroked. 

A moan fell from Yuuri’s mouth along with a matching one from Viktor, rutting his cock against Yuuri’s lower back. Yuuri could feel the heft of him there, the wet slide of precome against his skin. The sensations were foreign and familiar at the same time, both new and old territory was traversed by Viktor’s hands. They had moved this way before, with gasped breaths and roaming touch, how many months ago now? Their bodies had danced this way before, and Yuuri burned with it.

Viktor’s mouth was wet and greedy against his throat, and Yuuri wished for all he had that he could remove his collar, to feel Viktor’s mouth on his tender scent glands, to let him mark him, to fall completely into Viktor’s tidal pull. His back curved in a severe arch, pushing into Viktor’s hand, aching for more, deeper, faster, _anything._

“Viktor, _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri cried, his head falling back on Viktor’s shoulder as his body unraveled, his cock twitched in Vitkor’s hand and he came with a strangled moan. 

Viktor didn’t move, holding himself a hair's breadth from Yuuri’s back as he wrapped his come-slicked hand around himself; his breath caught in his throat and he came too, a long, shuddering moan huffed directly into Yuuri’s ear. Come spurted against Yuuri’s lower back and the sensation made Yuuri feel so thoroughly claimed, so _wanted._

“Yuuri, I-I’m going to knot,” Viktor gasped, open-mouthed against Yuuri’s shoulder. “Yuuri, _fuck_ ,” The thought sent a chill down Yuuri’s spine and Viktor’s moan shifted to a whine, his body jerking in tiny, aborted movements as his knot popped in his fist.

“Have you ever done that, Viktor?” Yuuri asked, equal parts in awe and shock, his body already coiling with arousal again. “Have you ever knotted outside of your rut?”

“No,” Viktor gasped, rocking himself into his fist, rolling the hot, wet head of him against Yuuri’s back. “No, no, just now. Only for you.”

Yuuri rocked back down, a surge of confidence pushing him to continue. “Just me. Only me.” he panted, turning in Viktor’s grasp and pushing him onto his back. “Only I can get you _this_ worked up, make you knot just by touching yourself.” Yuuri lifted up over Viktor’s still-hard cock, reddened and dripping, the bulbous knot at the base of it throbbing. He knew, somewhere in the quiet of his mind that girth had been inside him before, but he craved it _now._

“Yuuri, I- wait,” Viktor shuddered, “You’re not, I haven’t-”

Yuuri sank down over the head of him with a stifled scream, the hot length of Viktor’s cock splitting him open. The burn would certainly return hours later, and he knew he would regret such a sudden intrusion, but Viktor’s blissed expression was worth every ounce of pain. 

Viktor wrapped his hands around Yuuri’s waist and clung to him tight, certainly leaving bruises— but Yuuri savored the thought of Viktor laying claim to his body. He slowly took more of Viktor, his slick easing the way, until he hit the beginning of Viktor’s knot. 

“I want it in me.” Yuuri panted, rolling his hips slowly. Viktor’s mouth had parted in a silent moan, his eyes screwed shut. “Knot me, Viktor,” Yuuri didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, needy and heated. He bore down, listening to Viktor’s shocked moan as he took it all; the knot burned against his rim like a searing brand, but seating himself fully on Viktor’s length was so uniquely filling that waiting was no longer an option. 

Yuuri screamed his throat raw, thrashing and jolting like he had been struck by lightning as Viktor held him in place, his knot throbbing as he came again, deep inside Yuuri’s body for the first time since the heat they shared. The fullness alone had Yuuri dancing on a knife’s edge and he began furiously stroking himself, panting for breath as he admired the wrecked Captain below him, utterly lost in pleasure. 

“Y-Yuuri,” Viktor croaked, his hips still twitching up into him as Yuuri brought himself to that precipice. “Come for me, I want— I want to see you.”

The request had Yuuri sobbing through his orgasm, ropes of come marking Viktor’s chest and stomach. Viktor moaned low in his chest at the sensation of it and pulled Yuuri down into him, holding him close as they fell from that highest height, gasping for breath together. 

“I missed this,” Viktor whispered, wishing he could shove his foot in his mouth when he realized it hadn’t been a private thought, as he had hoped it would. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I missed it too.” Yuuri said, barely remembering the last time he had been Viktor’s this way. “I missed you. Feeling you here.”

“So have I.” Viktor’s breath was slowing, his body still thrumming with energy. “Gods, I worried I would never be allowed to touch you again.”

Yuuri laughed tiredly, nestling into the space between Viktor’s ear and his shoulder. “You’re far too good at touching me to never do it again.” he teased, earning a huffed laugh from Viktor in return. When Viktor’s knot receded, he made quick work of cleaning both of them, kissing the expanse of Yuuri’s clean skin. 

Yuuri had missed Viktor’s tender doting so much it felt like a homecoming; when he had finished and both were clean and dry, he combed through Viktor’s own rumpled bedhead and pressed his wrists to the glands on either side of Viktor’s throat, marking him as thoroughly as Viktor had marked him. 

“Perfect,” Viktor crooned as they fell back into bed, clinging to each other as desperately as they had in those heat-frenzied nights. “Well done, love. Well done.”

* * *

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked that afternoon as Viktor prepared to set off for what Viktor defined as a "horribly stuffy luncheon" with the local magistrates. It was difficult to form a single thought with Viktor dressed the way he was, done to the nines in his formal blues. Viktor fastened a simple black collar around his throat to stifle his scent for polite company; Yuuri had never seen an alpha cover themselves this way. Perhaps that was the way of formal visits in the Northern Territories, Yuuri wouldn’t have known the traditions or manners of Viktor’s people. 

“Yes, Yuuri?” Viktor replied as he tied his cravat, fastening it with a heavy silver pin. 

“I want to go ashore too.” Viktor’s hands paused, hovering in the air. “I want to walk on dry land again.” Yuuri’s eyes were fixed to his lap, his hands tangled in the end of his braid. “Just for an hour or so, to get some fresh air.”

“The air is just as fresh on the quarterdeck as it is on land.” Viktor replied with his arms crossed, looking petulant as ever. Yuuri sighed, knowing Viktor was correct, if petulant. “Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was tight and controlled, the fear so evident in his scent Yuuri was awed at how he had ever hidden it from him. “What if something were to happen? I… I couldn’t bear it.”

“I thought Sanisia was a safe place.” Yuuri countered gently, fussing idly with the sheets wrapped around him. “There are laws here, I’ve read your books about it, you taught me about it on the voyage. There is a government here, the codes are obeyed and constables patrol the city square.”

Viktor’s expression was still tight, his jaw still clenched. “I nearly lost you to bandits, to mutineers. There are laws governing the port, but… how could you be so trusting of strangers?”

Yuuri’s heart sank at the accusation. “I… would you be more amenable if I wore one of your coats? To mask my scent?” he bargained, eyeing one of Viktor’s spare coats, thoroughly marked with alpha scent and pheromones. “Please, Viktor. I just want to take a walk in the park.” He stood and crossed the room, tucking himself into Viktor’s open, unbuttoned coat. 

Viktor’s frown receded slightly, the tight, guarded expression on his face had Yuuri’s heart twisting in his chest. He held his breath as he waited, until Viktor blew out a long sigh.

“Yuuri, you do not need to ask for my permission to leave,” Viktor said softly, holding him close to his chest. “I want to protect you, I want to keep you safe. But I cannot say you may not go.” Yuuri let out a soft purr against Viktor’s chest, casting a warm swathe of scent over the room. “Please, if you go. Do not stay out past nightfall. Wear my coat, and do not stray from main thoroughfares.”

Yuuri giggled, a soft thing in his throat. 

“What?” Viktor asked through a stifled smile. “What’s funny?”

“You sound like a mother hen.” Yuuri laughed again, prodding Viktor in the cheek where the struggle to fight his smile was most evident, his twitching muscle betrayed him. “I swear on my life I’ll be safe.”

“I'm sorry, Yuuri. I just get a little anxious, letting a vision like you stroll around unattended. Imagine if another man would see you and try to take you from me?” Viktor's protest came a bit weaker with Yuuri’s sweet scent filling his nose. 

“I’ll scare him off, Viktor, don’t worry. I’m not a complete stranger to a blade.” Yuuri’s eyes flashed playfully as he pulled the knife from its pocket in Viktor’s coat. “I can protect myself if need be.”

“Thank you, sweet.” Viktor crooned, admittedly curious about Yuuri’s skill with a blade— he was certainly talented in the kitchen, it was no wonder his hand was so steady on the hilt of a dagger while so shaky holding a pistol. “I know I’d certainly fear such a breathtaking omega in the streets. Who knows what kind of devious lure such a beauty might be.”

Yuuri laughed as he slid the small blade into the sheath sewn into his boot and pressed a soft kiss to Viktor’s lips, buttoning him into his coat. “I could say the same to you, Captain,” Yuuri said, admiring the silhouette of his Captain, his slim waist and broad shoulders accentuated in every perfect way by his coat. He looked regal and dangerous in equal measure, especially as he donned that feathered tricorne hat.

Yuuri made a grand show of dressing himself, though Viktor wished he could have ravished Yuuri as a morning reward before he had to take his leave. 

“Promise that you will return to me, safe and unharmed and I will do the same for you.” Yuuri whispered, standing on his toes and pressing his forehead to Viktor’s on the deck. Yuuri had spent the last year as the notorious Captain Nikiforov’s treasured one, even if it had not seemed like it in those dark early days. Word had traveled quickly of their purpose on the shores of Sanisia, rumors spread quickly among the common folk and Viktor’s reputation preceded him as it always did. Viktor cast fear into the hearts of his rivals. This fear was made doubly so as word spread of the coward band who had boarded them, the attempted mutiny quashed entirely at the Captain’s own hand. 

Christophe had been instrumental in passing along the tale, embellishing details here and there for excitement’s sake. While no one had seen the Captain’s beloved, cherished omega, rumors of his beauty, his easy, almost effortless charm had spread like wildfire. Yuuri would insist they were false, but neither Christophe nor Viktor would hear his protests. 

While their safety was never guaranteed, even in such a place as Sanisia, the small assurance of the promise they shared soothed both of any fears. 

The two parted, saying their goodbyes with a kiss that most likely would have resulted in Viktor being late, if not for Yuuri’s persuasion to hurry along and Christophe’s insistent tutting. Yuuri watched the two set off, thoroughly enjoying the way Viktor’s ass swayed as he walked down the ladder and onto dry land. Yuuri watched from afar as the crowd before them parted, Captain Nikiforov and his First Mate strolled into the tropical morning breeze, down the middle of the main cobbled street with the air of confidence that Yuuri had found so attractive at the first. 

When he could no longer see that feathered hat or a mop of blonde curls, Yuuri disembarked himself, turning up the collar of his coat and striding down the ladder. 

It was quiet in town, quaint, in all honesty. Yuuri had expected much worse. He had expected to see scraggly folk with awful, gnarled smiles, sad, downtrod people seeking refuge with the unloved, the spurned, but instead he found a thriving world. Children played games in the street, a well-kept garden sat in the middle of a wide avenue. Merchant’s stalls were full to overflowing with food, with goods, and people of all kinds were making their trades with coin from all over the world. 

The air was full of lively music and chatter from passersby, as the streets of Sanisia prepared for Saint Symeon’s Festival, celebrating the island’s patron saint. Yuuri would have laughed at the notion before, the thought that pirates followed any kind of saint would have been absurd before, but Cookie had taught him better by that point.

Yuuri followed his nose to a few stalls selling sweets, the smells of chocolate and candied fruit wafting through the air. 

“Penny for three,” a woman behind a stand of baked pastries declared, “Chocolate ones’re fresh this morning.”

Yuuri bit his lip, the thought of buying such a luxurious indulgence gave him pause, only for a moment. “I haven’t had chocolate in years.” He said simply, the memory of it still lingered on his tongue. It had been a wedding gift from his mother, a sweet reminder just before he left. 

“Now’s a great time to change that, lad.” She laughed, and Yuuri came up empty of any rebuttal. He pulled a shiny gold coin from the small bag Viktor had given him, his share from the past months. She was right, of course, and Yuuri didn’t mourn the loss of gold in the slightest. 

He passed by a great deal of shops before he found the one he had been looking for, the bookshop. So many new books were waiting when he arrived, more than he could have possibly picked from. Their gilded lettering and leatherbound spines felt like magic under his fingertips, their knowledge a gift from the fae. 

Yuuri selected a few, nearly emptying his coinpurse in the process; a history of Sanisia, written by a longtime local, a book of recipes for long voyages, and a small anthology of poems bound in dark blue leather. 

He thanked the shopkeep profusely and hurried out to the green, finding himself a lovely spot in the shade of a large tree. The history seemed most pressing, and Yuuri chose it to explore first, admiring the neat typeface and was immediately enraptured by the stories the author had to share.

A small, pathetic noise pulled him away from his reading, the instinctive pull of his omega at full attention. Yuuri tucked the book away into the satchel Viktor had given him, scrambling to find the source of such a sad whine.

He traced the noise to a long, narrow alleyway tucked between two buildings, the whimpering cry echoing off sun-warmed brick. His omega was screaming, begging Yuuri to follow the noise; the pull was so strong he could hardly fight it, even if he wanted to. Yuuri ventured into the alley, the space so tight he felt he had to hold his breath as he walked. Tucked in a discarded crate was a pile of matted brown fur with sad eyes blinking up at him in the fading sunlight. 

“Oh, oh gods,” Yuuri breathed as his omega demanded he dote, that he tend to the poor creature. Carefully, Yuuri reached an arm down to the animal, purring a soft encouragement as a cool, button nose tentatively sniffed at his fingers. “Hello, little one.” Yuuri cooed, releasing a soft wave of scent.

The puppy yapped at him tiredly, its little voice sounded ragged and exhausted; Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest and he bent down to coax the dog from its shoddy home. The puppy stood on shaky back legs and yelped in pain when a length of twine held him back, wrapped tightly around his neck. 

Yuuri could have hissed at the very thought of a person leaving such a young, helpless animal to starve in a dirty alley. He quickly unsheathed the knife from his boot and cut the dog free, gathering the puddle of dirty fur into his arms.

The moment the pup was safe in his arms, Yuuri felt a flood of something unfamiliar wash over him, his omega hissing and spitting that someone would do something so cruel to such a helpless creature. _This is mine, protect, protect, protect_. His omega screamed in anger, his heart raced in his chest as he held the dog close. As if the pup could sense his anger, a small whine sounded from its throat as it rested its fluffy head against his heart with a tiny whine and display of a pink tongue.

All anger and pity melted away like ice on a summer's day. Hugging the tiny creature closer to his chest, Yuuri bathed it in his scent, a natural instinct to soothe the pup with his pheromones taking hold.

"You're coming home with me." He whispered with a smile and quickly turned on his heel to head back to the ship. The pup was rail-thin and trembled in his arms, but Yuuri couldn’t have ignored the way those dark eyes sparkled. Yuuri’s instinct soared and he boarded the _Stammi_ with the puppy in his coat, not stopping for even a moment until he reached the galley to give his new friend a much-needed bath and a proper meal.

Later, when a soft knock rang against the cabin door, Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat; he had been waiting for Viktor’s return. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, waiting for Viktor to return from his meetings. The pup had fallen asleep at his side, rolling onto his back to show his belly. Yuuri smiled softly and pulled the freshly bathed and happily fed poodle into his arms and cooed softly. 

“Welcome back, Captain,” Yuuri cooed, his voice low and soft as the pup stirred, sniffing and falling asleep again. “Come in, I have someone for you to meet.” Viktor’s eyes widened as Yuuri sat up, revealing the puddle of brown fur in his arms. He looked so much happier now, brushed and washed and fed to his heart’s content. Would Viktor tell him to return the pup? _Just another mouth to feed_ , Hisashi’s voice rang in his head, the haunting memory of his last request to keep a pet when the neighboring farm gave away their herding dog’s puppies. 

“Who is this, Yuuri?” Viktor murmured quietly, extending his hands in a request. Yuuri’s heart throbbed in his chest and he set the puppy in Viktor’s arms, his inner omega a bit nervous at handing off the animal. Viktor met the pup's chocolatey eyes and Yuuri could smell a warm wave of protective pheromones, swirled with the barest hint of melancholy.

“I found him while I was out, he was starving, and tied up in an alley. It was so sad, I couldn’t walk away from him. I just couldn’t.” Yuuri replied, more words than he had intended falling from his lips. He flushed a bit at the way Viktor’s eyes softened as they met his, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth in a way he hadn’t been expecting. “Please don’t be angry. I-”

“Why would I be angry? You found a creature in need and you helped. Your omega guided you. How could I possibly be upset about that? You found a friend so sweet and small…” Viktor cooed, scratching the dog under his chin and growling happily as the puppy flopped bonelessly into the touch. “He looks just like her…” Viktor murmured under his breath, a tear pearling in those silver eyelashes. He sighed wetly and looked up at Yuuri with a brilliant smile. 

Yuuri was positively beaming at the praise from his alpha, and a low purr resonating in his throat at the sight of Viktor so gently doting on the animal. The puppy shifted in his arms, standing on his back paws and stretching to sniff at Viktor's chin, an act so pure and adorable that Yuuri couldn't help but smile, watching the dog pepper licking kisses at the sharp line of Viktor’s jaw.

"Do you have a name for our new crewmate?" Viktor asked in a teasing tone, laughing softly at the loving, eager kisses the puppy was giving him.

Yuuri flushed crimson. "Well, actually...."

"Yes, Yuuri?" Viktor pressed, easing the atmosphere with a calming push of his cedary scent.

"I wanted to call him Vicchan," Yuuri said softly, feeling his cheeks flush with the admission. 

The Captain pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. "Vic...chan? Is that a name from your homeland?"

Yuuri scratched behind his ear, his eyes focused on the bundle of fluff in Viktor’s arms. "Sort of… it's kind of a nickname."

The Captain smiled, his lips curled upward. "Pray tell, sweet, a nickname for what?"

"For… Viktor.” he screwed his eyes shut tight, waiting. The soft gasp that fell from Viktor’s lips had Yuuri’s heart throbbing. "I couldn’t just let him stay there, I took him in like you did for me."

Viktor’s eyes softened immediately, melting the frigid blue into warm, tropical waters.

"Oh, love… that’s so sweet,” Viktor breathed, and Yuuri felt himself shudder at the soft diminutive on Viktor’s tongue. “Vicchan. It suits him. Our new little sailor is a tad smaller than…” his voice trailed off softly, something heavy and melancholy lingering in his scent.

Yuuri leaned closer, pressing his nose to Viktor’s throat. Pain lingered there, and Yuuri’s heart ached with its heaviness. Tears were beading in his eyelashes like dew in spider’s silk— Yuuri slowly reached up, wiping away those sparkling tears wordlessly.

They stayed there for a while, quietly swaying with the water rocking the ship below. Yuuri knew something was pulling at Viktor’s heart, and even if he wasn’t ready to share, Yuuri would wait until the day came. The pup’s pink tongue lapped at Viktor’s chin, and a tired, wet laugh fell from his mouth at the gesture. 

“ _Thank you, dear,”_ Viktor crooned in his first language, scratching him behind his ears. Yuuri recognized the pained longing in his eyes and wondered if he had touched something he should have left alone by bringing the pup home.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked softly, tucking a stray few hairs behind Viktor’s ear.

"I will be.” Viktor promised with a familiar determination in his eye. “The gods truly blessed me the day I stumbled into that tavern." Viktor breathed, pressing his lips to Yuuri's like he was made of porcelain and the slightest pressure would break him. The gentle contact set Yuuri's lips on fire, his omega purred loudly and eagerly, pressing against Viktor’s broad chest desperate for more. The pup in his arms squirmed between then, a little yelp escaped that tiny mouth.

 _“Oh, gods, didn't mean to squish you!”_ Yuuri cooed in his mother tongue in response, immediately withdrawing from Viktor's touch, soothing the pup.

“Wow, Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, his eyes moony and wide as saucers as the omega purred softly into the chocolatey fur. Words escaped him, his heart too full to attempt a translation of what Yuuri had said. Seeing Yuuri so soft and tender with another soul had him weak in the knees. 

He pulled Yuuri in for another embrace, carefully avoiding the writhing body of the dog between them. Viktor pulled in a deep sigh of Yuuri’s sweet scent, tinged with something sweeter, something different— like honey. Perhaps this was what Yuuri needed, what his omega demanded, to have someone to care for, someone to look after.

“Welcome aboard, Vicchan.” Viktor whispered, nuzzling into the soft fur now happily dozing in Yuuri’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and merry Vicmas eve to everyone else! I hope all of you have as pleasant a holiday as you can-- life is cold and hard right now. I hope every one of you knows just how much I appreciate and love you. 
> 
> <3 ia


	16. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a short break from the story and explore Sanisia. Yuuri asks for a favor and Viktor eagerly fulfills it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As my new year's eve gift to you, a beautiful piece of art is included at the end! It was made by my friend Amai, (@amai892 on Twitter!)
> 
> I couldn't not include the side stories I wrote for the original fic, so this little pause in the story is brought to you by my need for softness and smut. This interlude doesn’t necessarily take place _right now_ in the story, just at some point while they’re in Sanisia. take it with a grain of salt lmao

Yuuri lay sprawled out across the davenport in the afternoon sun, the most recent edition of a Northern language text held dangerously close to his face. This was, unfortunately, the only way he could read for long periods of time without straining his eyes. He hadn't been afforded access to such an extensive library as Viktor's in years, as far back as the day he left home. He missed the escape of it all, of burying oneself in a fabricated world, into the mind of an adventurer, a mage, or maybe a great king. 

He briefly considered that he might have chosen Viktor for his library alone. The man himself was sitting dutifully at the desk in the corner, curled over a stack of maps and charts, golden spectacles balanced on his nose. The sight always brought a smile to Yuuri's face, the determination in Viktor's eyes always warmed his cheeks.

Yuuri could spend countless hours reclined in the sun with a book in his hands. (Maybe another book than the one he was currently struggling through.) He had been slogging through the new edition of what was ostensibly a child’s primer, trying to teach himself Viktor’s mother tongue. It was foreign and the sounds were difficult to form in his mouth. 

The words on the page began to bleed together, until it all looked like lines of foreign glyphs completely unreadable to Yuuri’s eyes. No matter how close he held the book to his face, it was still messy and blurred. His frustration swelled until it snapped; Yuuri shut the book harder than he expected and it fell to the floor. Viktor startled at the sudden noise. He spun in his seat, spectacles still on his face.

“Yuuri? What was that?” He asked, worry thick in his voice. “Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Yuuri replied curtly, immediately regretting snapping at him. “I’m sorry, I'm just tired of reading, my eyes hurt. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Viktor offered him a small smile before turning back to his charts.

Reading had never been _this_ difficult. It had never given him headaches like this when he was young. He had recently found himself squinting to see across rooms, to decipher Viktor’s expressions, his facial features. His mother and father wore spectacles, maybe it was simply his time to get them too. Maybe it was long past time. He groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to dispel the pain.

"Something's on your mind and I can tell. I can feel you thinking from here." Viktor murmured, and Yuuri found himself relaxing with the rolling timbre of Viktor’s voice filling his ears.

“When did you start to need your spectacles?” Yuuri asked, and Viktor turned around again.

“Oh, the glasses are a recent development. I think it’s been five or six years now. A few years before we met. Why do you ask, love?”

“Just wondering, that’s all.” Yuuri turned his back to Viktor, trying in vain to hide from him. He heard Viktor rise from his seat and walk around the bed to the couch. The cushion supporting Yuuri’s legs dipped as Viktor sat down, laying a hand to rest on the swell of his upper thigh. Viktor felt the gentle pull of Yuuri’s distress in his scent.

"I don’t think you’re ‘just wondering’, love. I’m going to ask you again. Why do you ask?”

Yuuri grumbled, cursing that Viktor knew him so well. He looked so damned _pretty_ with the golden frames resting delicately on the end of his nose.

“Sometimes my eyes hurt when I read. I have to hold books so close to my face when I read now.” Yuuri flushed at the small sigh Viktor made, the knowing gleam in his eye. "And I can’t read signs when we're at port. I… I think I need glasses of my own.” Yuuri stuttered, almost ashamed to ask for Viktor's help like this.

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, pulling him into his arms. “Oh, love… I’m sorry.” Tears came without warning, and Yuuri tucked his head under Viktor’s chin until it passed. “Would you like to try mine? To see what you’ll look like with spectacles of your own?”

Yuuri sniffled softly and nodded, waiting on the sofa as Viktor found his hand mirror. When he returned, Viktor untucked the stems from behind his ears, carefully avoiding his earrings. He offered them to Yuuri, those azure eyes glittering with kind tenderness. Yuuri sat up, closing his eyes before donning the glasses in the way he’d seen Viktor do a thousand times. The bridge of them sat gently on Yuuri’s nose, not pinching like he had expected. He curled the flexible stems around the backs of his ears, tucking his hair behind with them as well.

“Are you ready to open your eyes?” Viktor murmured, the quiet, rumbling tone of his voice soothing and warm in Yuuri’s ears.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Yuuri breathed one last calming breath before allowing his eyes to flutter open. The sight that met him was quite opposite what he had been expecting, everything was still blurred and swimmy around the edges. He furrowed his brow and pulled Viktor’s mirror closer, examining his own reflection. 

“They didn’t help…” Yuuri huffed, letting his gaze fall to his lap.

“The lenses aren’t magic, love.” Viktor answered after a moment, cupping Yuuri’s cheek with one hand and holding the mirror with the other. “You need your own, made just for you. But look, you're beautiful in them.”

Yuuri bit his lower lip and looked a second time, forcing his eyes to focus on his reflection. “Beautiful?” he asked, part in disbelief, part seeking confirmation. He didn’t _feel_ beautiful.

“Absolutely stunning, love. Glasses suit you.” Viktor crooned, kissing the space between Yuuri’s eyebrows. “We’ll need to get you a different color, though. Maybe silver. No, silver clashes with your eyes, maybe blue? Yes! Blue would be perfect on you." Viktor babbled, his eyes bright and eager.

"Viktor," Yuuri began, feeling a laugh crawl up into his throat from his very core.

"I’d honestly like to know how you haven’t been running yourself into walls until this point.”

The two laughed at that as Yuuri pulled the borrowed spectacles from his nose and passed them back to Viktor. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.” Viktor smiled the heart-shaped smile that Yuuri loved so much.“I believe there’s an optician in town,” Viktor offered, pulling Yuuri into his arms. “They can make you something to wear every day.” 

“Can we go today?” Yuuri asked, letting himself melt into Viktor’s touch, the strain he had put on his eyes dissipating as Viktor eased him onto his back. 

“Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow. I believe my schedule has just become fully booked.” Viktor answered against Yuuri’s throat, kissing at the exposed skin below his collar. “May I?” he whispered, dancing a hand over the waist of his trousers. 

“Touch me.” Yuuri purred, arching himself up into Viktor’s hand. 

True to Viktor’s suggestion, they wandered into port with the intention of finding an optician, the humid air almost oppressive, even just after sunrise. Both men had already pulled their long hair into messy top knots, the backs of their necks sweating with the heat of the tropical sun. Yuuri had never spent the cold months in a hot climate. It was strange, to have just celebrated the autumnal equinox and yet Viktor was walking through the streets practically begging Yuuri to let him take his shirt off. He refused for exactly three reasons.

First, the jealousy that lurked under Yuuri’s skin resented the idea that anyone would see his Alpha in any state of undress. Second, Yuuri knew that the public, even in the haven that was Sanisia, would not like seeing a man exposing himself in that way, even if it was oppressively hot. Third, he knew that it could cause others to challenge Viktor, which was a scuffle that he did not intend to start that day. So Viktor kept his shirt on and complained about it until Yuuri pulled the man down by his collar to meet his eyes.

“Viktor Nikiforov, you _will_ behave, or I will send you back to the ship by yourself, I will spend every ounce of gold in this purse,” he grabbed at the small bag of coin at Viktor’s hip, jingling the contents lightly, “ _And_ you will not see me naked for three days.”

That gave Viktor pause.

Viktor spotted the sign first, a huge pair of glasses suspended where a shop sign would be. 

"There," he said, pointing it out to Yuuri. "There it is. I knew it was still here." The short distance to the shop had Yuuri buzzing with excitement. It was time to purchase him a pair of his own spectacles. His life had been changed irrevocably by the realization that he needed glasses, and it was made all the better that Viktor was excited to buy them for him.

“Yuuri! We can match!” Viktor held a pair very similar to his, small, round frames rimmed with gold.

“I think I remember you saying yourself that gold isn't the best color for me… are there any other colors?” Yuuri asked the elderly shopkeep, whose own glasses were thicker than any pair Yuuri had ever seen.

“Ah, yes sir, a shipment just arrived with a few more colors than the ones on display,” the gentleman behind the counter said. “I’ll fetch them, just a moment.” Yuuri found himself nervously tapping his foot, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. The man returned with a large crate of the new arrivals.

“Do you have something in blue? My Yuuri looks absolutely radiant in blue.” Viktor asked the optician, who hummed gently as he rifled through its contents. He drew a few pairs from the crate, laying them gently on the counter for Yuuri to examine. A pair like Viktor’s, dainty and round, looked a bit too small on Yuuri’s face. A different pair were too big for Yuuri’s nose, and slid right off. They laughed a bit as Yuuri picked a third pair, with round, empty frames and flexible curled stems like Viktor’s.

“The blue is certainly striking.” Said the man, but Yuuri didn't hear it. All he saw was Viktor’s reaction, a massive, heart-shaped smile on his face as Yuuri wrapped the stems around his ears. 

“We’ll take these.” Yuuri said. Viktor chatted with the optician for a while, most of it escaping Yuuri’s ears as he admired his own reflection. He looked so _different_ , and these were only empty frames. Yuuri felt his stomach twisting with excitement at the thought of seeing everything clearly, of no longer straining to read street signs and books.

The man held a few lenses in front of his eyes, clearly looking for what would suit Yuuri best. For a fleeting moment, Yuuri saw with ease Viktor’s expression, all of him shown in crisp detail; his smile lines and the creases at the corners of his eyes. He was beautiful, and Yuuri couldn’t wait for such a sight to be his status quo.

Viktor ushered him back out into the street while the optician worked, Yuuri’s glasses were given priority with a hefty sum of gold to grease the man’s palm. They wasted the afternoon wandering through shops and savoring local treats, avoiding the sun when they could in the shade of a large tree in the square. 

“Shall we pick you a book?” Viktor asked softly, running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair as they lounged in the shade. “You know how much I love when you read to me, and there’s a bookstore just across the green, there.”

Yuuri hummed, not at all eager to leave the spot they had found in the grass. “After my glasses are ready.” Yuuri insisted and Viktor laughed softly. 

“Aye,” he chirped, mimicking his crew with the kind of reverence Yuuri adored. “Afterward.”

It was still blisteringly hot by the time they returned to the optician, the streets bustling with afternoon traffic. Yuuri was warm with more than just the sunshine, Viktor’s hand felt heavy and assuring in the small of his back. 

The optician greeted them warmly when they stepped into the cool of the shop, gesturing to a small wooden box on the counter. Viktor gave the man his payment as Yuuri lifted the glasses- _his glasses-_ from the box with gentle hands. They felt heavy, the lenses large and round. 

“Go on, love,” Viktor whispered, leaning in close and kissing his forehead. “Try them on.”

There was no hesitation this time. Yuuri was ready. He slipped the frames into place and his heart urged into a thudding gallop. Everything was crisp and clear. Sharp lines of the countertops, the mirrors on the walls, glass display cases were in breathtaking detail. The grain of the wooden plank floors was distinguishable. He saw dust motes drifting through the air. Only the faint blue outline of the frames interrupted Yuuri’s vision.

Yuuri saw the small, faint freckles dotting Viktor’s cheeks, just barely distinguishable from his skin. He saw the silvery scars that crossed his forearms. Yuuri spent the next few minutes committing every single one of them to memory. He leaned closer to his love, examining the blue irises of his eyes, a slightly darker blue ringing each pool of aquamarine. Yuuri felt as though he was truly _seeing_ for the first time in years.

Viktor was almost _too_ happy to test Yuuri’s new glasses, quizzing him on the signs for various shops and advertisements as they walked through the city square. Yuuri was overjoyed, the crisp outline of buildings sharp against the blue sky, the texture of the cobbled streets under their feet. He could see the new pale freckles on his cheekbones from his time in the sun.

“Thank you, Viktor. Thank you. So much.” Yuuri said, purring softly as the two approached the ship’s ladder.

“Of course, darling. You look so handsome with your spectacles, I'm afraid I might lose your hand to some wealthy aristocrat.” Viktor replied dramatically, draping a hand over his eye and earning a laugh from Yuuri. “I can't believe you've spent all these years without being able to see. Remind an old man, darling. How old are you? Nineteen now?” Viktor pressed a kiss to his forehead with a small smile on his cheeks.

“I’m twenty-one,” Yuuri laughed at Viktor’s forgetfulness, concocting a truly cruel plot. “And if your memory needs refreshing, you’re nearing…”

“Don’t you dare say what filth was about to come out of your mouth, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smirked, a truly mischievous thing. “Thirty.”

“ _You will regret that, darling._ ” Viktor chuckled darkly in his mother tongue as the two moved through the throng of people on the docks.

“ _You'll need to catch me first._ ” Yuuri answered in kind, happy to show off his progress in learning Viktor’s language. He took off running, the new glasses aiding him weaving through the people gathered there, in avoiding loose planks, and in dashing between sailors as they went about their business. Viktor was barely a step behind him, his alpha panting at the act of physically chasing his omega. Long-dormant instincts surged forward at the thought of his omega as his prey. 

Viktor learned the hard way how difficult it was to run with a hard-on.

By the time Viktor made it through the crowd on the upper deck, Yuuri had disappeared from his line of sight, no doubt hiding somewhere Viktor needed to seek him out. He threw the cabin door open, chest heaving and lungs aching with the run. His instincts were attuned to Yuuri’s scent, following the trail Yuuri had left behind. Viktor followed his nose, growing even harder with the chase; the scent was all over the cabin, heavy on shed articles of clothing strewn about the room. That meant that a naked Yuuri was somewhere in the cabin, and Viktor intended to find him.

After all, naked Yuuri was one of Viktor’s favorite Yuuris.

He moved slowly around the desk, peered into the privy, opened the wardrobe, and even looked under the bed, but did not find his naked Yuuri. A frustrated growl rumbled from his throat, the hardness in his trousers nearly too much. Then he felt a warm breeze moving through the cabin from the open balcony door, Yuuri’s scent floating into the room from outside.

Excitement curled tightly in his core and he all but ran out onto the rear deck.Something carnal, something instinctual, rose from Viktor’s alpha, as he approached his omega from behind.

Yuuri had seated himself on his knees in front of the pile of cushions stacked in the corner of their private deck. He was fighting to keep his breaths low, to slow his pulse despite the thrill of the chase. Viktor barely contained the contented growl that came from his throat to see his Yuuri, his love in such a submissive posture, in such a state of undress, the gentle glisten of sweat shining in the afternoon sun. The coiled knot of a bun he had been wearing was swapped for a loose tail, the hair kinked where it had been tightly wound together all morning, his glasses set delicately on the low table behind him. 

“Found you, darling.” Viktor’s chest vibrated with a pleased growl as he drew nearer, padding a slow circle around him slowly.

“ _Caught_ me.” Yuuri clarified with a constricted laugh high in his throat. There was a tension in his shoulders that had Viktor’s mouth watering, the lines of his muscles that were so precise and so soft at the same time. Viktor couldn’t help himself, he was drawn to Yuuri like a moth to candlelight.

“Viktor…” Yuuri murmured, his mouth falling open in a moan at the scent of Viktor’s arousal. The heaviness of Viktor’s musk was concentrated between his legs, at perfect height for Yuuri’s nose and mouth.

“Yes, darling? Is this what you wanted?” Viktor’s voice dropped lower and warmer as Yuuri began to press his thighs together, his soft, pink lips parted in a silent moan. “To be chased? To be pursued, only to be caught and taken apart?” He asked, threading a hand through Yuuri’s hair gently before withdrawing.

“Yes, I wanted to surprise you.” Yuuri managed, surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth, barely drowning out the sound of his omega screaming to be claimed.

“And you certainly did, _my love_.” Viktor dipped into his mother tongue, using the endearment he knew made Yuuri squirm.

“Please, Viktor, Alpha, I want you…” Yuuri whined, begging Viktor to stop circling in his mind. Viktor felt the plea like a lump in his own throat and he stilled directly in front of Yuuri.

“ _How_ do you want me?” Viktor growled hungrily as he cast hooded eyes down. Yuuri looked the perfect image of debauched, knelt between his legs, eyes glassy and mouth open.

“I want you in my… in my mouth…” Yuuri stumbled over the words, suddenly flushed with embarrassment. Viktor towered over him, fully clothed (albeit looking absolutely wrecked) and erect in his trousers, while Yuuri himself was stark naked, kneeling before him, hard and dripping. Viktor didn’t say a word, but merely unlaced the fly of his trousers, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric.

“ _Then have me, love_.” He moaned in his native language. A small, pink tongue darted out to wet his lips before he latched on to the hot crown of Viktor’s cock, swirling his tongue over the flared head and laving at the folds of foreskin. Viktor’s moans echoed through Yuuri’s mind as a burst of salty precome coated his tongue. He loved the taste of him, the combination of the salt and his musky scent thick in the tangle of silver hair at the base of his cock was heavenly. 

Yuuri began to slowly slide his way down Viktor’s length, working him over generously with his tongue. The corners of his lips were stretched to the point of what Yuuri thought might tear the skin, but he loved the reaction too much to stop. Yuuri looked up at his alpha, his Viktor, feeling his eyes welling up with tears. 

Yuuri choked on a moan with Viktor’s cock in his mouth, earning a stifled growl. Slender fingers wound their way through Yuuri's hair, running playful touches over his scalp and pulling more vibration from Yuuri’s mouth and into Viktor's cock. Viktor moaned in kind, stuttering breaths catching in his throat as Yuuri hollowed his cheeks and sucked.

“ _Fuck,_ Yuuri… gods, so good at this,” Viktor moaned as Yuuri bobbed up and down along his length, thoroughly enjoying taking Viktor apart piece by piece. “So good for me, love…” Viktor was panting now, fingers tightly clutched in Yuuri’s hair. The pleasure threatened to pull him apart, his core tightening impossibly with every lap of Yuuri’s tongue, every soft sound his wet mouth made. 

“Fuck my throat.” Yuuri croaked, pulling off with eyes blown wide and lustful. Viktor could have come at that very moment, had he not grasped the base of his cock to prevent it. A growl tore from Viktor’s chest, dark and unbridled.

“Savior of all,” Viktor hissed, forcing himself to breathe slowly. “I could do with a warning first.” he teased through gritted teeth, not bearing to watch Yuuri’s reddened lips curl up in a mirthful smile. 

“I’ll warn you next time.” Yuuri promised, setting his hands on Viktor’s thighs and leaning close, ghosting his breath over the crown of Viktor’s cock, watching it twitch with interest. Yuuri wet his lips and the corners of his mouth again as Viktor took Yuuri’s hair in his fist. Yuuri squeaked at the possessive gesture, and in anticipation of what was about to happen.

He sank down onto Viktor’s cock again, pulling another dark growl from the man. “Are you ready, love?” Viktor asked, the muscles in his thighs and stomach clenching to restrain the urge to thrust into the heat of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri hummed softly and looked up from his place between Viktor’s legs. He relaxed his throat and took a deep breath, blinking wetly up at Viktor in encouragement, pushing his words into his gaze, begging without speaking.

Viktor’s thrusts began slowly, holding Yuuri still with one hand and measuring his reactions. He didn’t want to hurt his Yuuri, but the wet sounds of his mouth made it incredibly difficult to hold back. Yuuri didn’t fight the tears that rolled down his cheeks, his eyes watering at the intrusion. 

Yuuri tried his best to add the vibration of his purr to the laundry list of sensations as Viktor picked up his pace. Yuuri’s mewling moans were stuttered, choked and gagged on the cock in his mouth, pushing into his throat. Viktor was completely enraptured by the sight of Yuuri on his knees, taking his cock in such a sinfully lewd way. His lips were stretched around the hard flesh, his body pliant and unresisting. He looked so _dirty_. Viktor absolutely loved it.

“-m close, love, so close, fuck.” Viktor’s hips began to stutter in speed, unable to keep a steady rhythm as he neared the edge. “Touch yourself, love. Come with me? Please come with me darling." 

Yuuri’s hands had been gripping tightly at Viktor’s thighs, fighting the urge to touch himself, waiting for the command to move. His right hand flew to grasp his cock and stroked himself with the precome that had begun to slowly dribble from the tip. His left hand immediately found his hole, long fingers artlessly pushing inside with a wet squelch of slick. Viktor’s hand still grasped tightly in his hair, Viktor’s cock deep in his throat and the heat of his own hands were too much, and Yuuri came hard, with a whimper of Viktor’s name. 

Viktor sobbed a moan as his cock twitched and emptied into Yuuri’s throat; he held Yuuri’s nose in the small patch of silver hair at the meeting of his thighs. Viktor rumbled praise in his first language as he crested the wave of his orgasm. It felt like a lightning strike, hot and sudden and all-consuming as a forest fire.

When he finally came back to earth, Yuuri was coughing, gasping for air between his thighs. Viktor was glad he had released him at some point during his orgasm and Yuuri had pulled off on his own. He looked beautiful there, his lips wet and red, a smear of come on the corner of his mouth. 

“Yuuri? Was that... are you okay?” Viktor’s voice was choked with concern as he dropped to the ground, pulling Yuuri into his arms and falling back onto the cushions behind him.

“More than okay.” Yuuri answered, his voice strained and his throat aching.

“Would you like something to drink, love?” Viktor murmured into his love’s ear. “Let me take care of you.” Viktor smiled as he watched Yuuri’s eyes flutter closed, thoroughly debauched and exhausted, reddened lips and tear-stained cheeks. Yuuri hummed softly, nodding as Viktor stood, pulling Yuuri into his arms and carried him inside.

“Anything for you, love.” Viktor cooed gently, kissing Yuuri’s temple. He was asleep before Viktor had even laid him down in bed. Before his head had even touched the pillow, his breathing was deep and slow as sleep took him.

He was always beautiful, but resting in their bed, his cheeks pink, his lips parted… he was truly breathtaking. Viktor peeled himself away from the sight to grab his glasses and set them on the bedside table, along with a glass of fresh water, and the book he had been reading. Viktor leaned over Yuuri’s frame and pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek.

If Viktor was a painter, he would have painted the scene before him. His love, his Yuuri, stark naked, tangled in a thin cotton sheet, black hair mussed and sunkissed skin dusted with a pink flush. The dark grain of the bed frame, a sharp contrast to the white billowing dressing of the bed, the golden sunlight filtering through the aged windows of their cabin. If Viktor was a bard, he would have sung of his beauty. The music of his laughter and the rhythm of his heartbeat, the slow, measured count of his breath. The shape of his body, strung tight like a violin’s bow, drawing new sounds from Viktor that he could never have imagined before. 

But Viktor was not a painter, not a bard, but a pirate. So he pillaged, plucking treasures for his love and loved him in the way he knew best. The way he knew Yuuri loved, the way he knew he could pull him in.

He thanked the gods for whatever he did to deserve the angel that would fall to his knees and suck his cock so beautifully. Then apologized for the sacrilege. And thanked them again.

art by @amai892 on twitter | [click to share ](https://twitter.com/amai892/status/1311169572490412037)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading, it's back to our regularly scheduled programming after this.
> 
> <3 ia


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Christophe plead their case for revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is the first chapter written entirely for the rewrite! hope all the original readers enjoy something completely new!)

Viktor took a long, slow breath in as he rapped on the heavy mahogany door of the Governor’s residence. Meetings held in the residence were stuffy affairs, but at the very least, Viktor knew he would have the man’s ear on the important matters. Their relationship had always been… cordial, he hesitated to say friendly. Viktor had supported his ascension to the Governor’s seat, and he had been rewarded handsomely for it with influence, but true cooperation between the two was rare.

Viktor groaned, tightened his cravat and pulled his hat from his head.

Christophe sighed. “I can smell you from here.” He rumbled under his breath, and Viktor shot him a sideways glare. “I wouldn’t expect less, this isn’t an easy conversation to have.”

Viktor let out a slow breath, trying to keep himself in line. Christophe was right, of course, but Viktor needed to make a show of composure, at least while on land. 

“I should have worn a muting balm or something,” Viktor groused, adjusting his collar, doing his best to tuck himself away— both physically and emotionally. The anger burned like a red-hot forge in his chest, the hatred that he had felt like hellfire in his belly simmered dangerously as the doors opened to the Governor’s mansion. 

It was his daughter who greeted them, a pleasant girl of eleven or twelve. Charlotte-Anne was the spitting image of the Governor's wife, and Viktor watched her go through the polite rigamarole of law-abiding society. Viktor knew this alone was an effort on the Governor’s behalf, to sway his favor and soften him before any discussion could be had. 

But even as a polite child with golden ringlets poured them cups of tea, Viktor knew his objective. The child’s gentle chatter was hardly the only thing on his mind; plans were already forming in his head, strategies swirling in his head like flies buzzing around a days-old-corpse.

“Cream or sugar, Captain Nikiforov?” she asked, which Viktor politely declined, but Chris gladly took both. “I see your First Mate has a taste for the finer things.”

Christophe laughed softly, and Viktor managed a quiet chuckle of his own. Viktor could already feel himself growing more agitated by the drawn-out process of bureaucracy— and they had only been under the Governor’s roof for a quarter hour. Viktor sighed and sipped his tea, wishing for all he had that he was drinking the tea Yuuri had begun making for them in the mornings, having found an old favorite blend at port. 

“That he does.” Viktor remarked, easily sinking back into the messy thoughts of revenge. Christophe held the conversation well, and Viktor silently thanked him for it. He prayed that the thoughts weren’t seeping through the collected visage of Captain, fully aware that such an indiscretion would be noticed by the child and relayed to her father… her father, who had on multiple occasions shown his staunch dislike for his hand being forced in this way. But that stubbornness was rubbing against the decision Viktor had already made. 

He had made it the moment Chris’s voice bellowed from beyond the cabin door. The moment Viktor had smelled them, he had decided. But he prayed it appeared that he hadn’t. 

The choice was made for him. He would take his revenge whether sanctioned or not. Hang the consequences. A quiet voice in the back of his mind attempted to pull on the loose thread of that thought, but he shoved it back down instead. 

“Ah, Captain Nikiforov,” a low, booming voice echoed off the marble floor; Viktor and Chris rose and bowed as propriety demanded, doffing their hats in deference. “Oh come now, stand up, boys. We’ve grown past the niceties, don’t you think?”

Viktor could read the posturing as clear as words on a page, but he laughed and straightened up anyway. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Governor Clarke,” Viktor greeted him, extending a firm hand to grasp. "How have the tropics been treating you?" 

“Much better than my sailing days, I hate to admit,” The Governor replied, “But those days are hardly conversation for young ears.”

The child pouted brilliantly, her bright blue eyes watery and wide. “Papa, how am I going to be a proper pirate if you never let me hear your stories?” 

"Charlotte…" The Governor smiled softly, "You know you aren't ready yet." She showed prodigious talent of puppy-dog begging; the Governor simply pulled his daughter in for a tight hug before sending her off, surely an act they had rehearsed often. The child was a pawn, as much as Viktor hated to admit it. 

The atmosphere shifted the second Charlotte exited the room— the Governor straightened immediately, his brow set in a firm line. 

“Thank you for meeting with us, Governor. Your time is quite coveted.” Christophe had always been the charming one of the pair, much better at schmoozing than Viktor had been. Their partnership was rather apt in that regard. 

“It’s no harm to sit down with old friends,” he replied, a peculiar tone coloring the words. Viktor felt himself bristle at the implication, but withheld any commentary. He had an important task to complete, and convincing Clarke without forcing his hand would prove difficult at least. 

And should his case be denied… what would happen? Would he and his crew be excommunicated, branded like other disloyal bands? The bureaucracy of it all was a necessary evil, providing safety and resources to those who required it. Would severing the tie keep his crew, his mate, everyone aboard safe or would it only cripple them when danger rose again?

Viktor’s power was not insignificant in this matter, after all, he had obtained the ear of Sanisia’s highest power without much effort. While unelected, Viktor arguably had more sway over those scattered across the seven seas than the Governor did. Sure, the man himself possessed no battalions, no armada sailed under Stammi’s colors. But his title, his name itself, demanded respect. 

He prayed it was enough.

The Governor guided their small party through the sitting room and into a grand hall of marble and mahogany, wide windows bathing the space with swaths of tropical sunlight. Christophe continued his compliments, admitting a new painting of the Governor and his family. 

Viktor could imagine himself in the man's position, but the mere thought of a portrait of himself in his best blues, Yuuri on his arm… glorified like a monarch… it turned his stomach. 

"Brandy, Captain?" the Governor asked when they arrived at his study, the heavy doors closed behind them. Viktor watched carefully as he poured Chris’s drink, a dark cherry brandy. "Unless your poison is whisky?"

"No, no," Viktor shook himself from his own thoughts. "Brandy is much preferred, thank you."

The men settled into two high-backed leather chairs on the opposite side of the Governor’s large, heavy desk. Viktor touched the silky ribbon wrapped around his wrist beneath his sleeve— touching gently where Yuuri had left a piece of himself, the gift Viktor himself had given him.

Yuuri.

Viktor kept his mate in mind as he sat forward in his seat, folding his legs as gracefully as he could in the narrow chair. 

All of this was for Yuuri.

"I was wondering if you would be coming here to ask for permission or forgiveness.” the Governor's tone was just as jovial as it ever had been, the emotion a ploy given the matter at hand. Viktor gave his best impression of a smile and took a small sip of the brandy, finding it far too sweet for his taste. “I thought you'd pursue them before coming here, but I suppose you're too smart to let your anger get away from you, aren't you?"

Viktor nodded, swallowing with some difficulty. “You know me well, Governor.” The tension in the room was tangible, thick as a cloud of cigar smoke. “What else have you heard of our sunny exploits?” Viktor asked, leading the man toward divulging more. 

“I’ve heard of your new contracts… and the _difficulties_ they imposed on you a few months ago.” The Governor replied with a cocked brow, the minute smirk on his mouth a tiny taunt that he wasn’t sure Christophe could recognize. “And a run-in with our friends the branded Red Hand.”

Viktor nodded tersely. “A run-in is certainly a term for it.” He could feel his teeth grinding in the back of his mouth as he held his tongue, fighting to remain as civil as possible. “Unfortunately my crew suffered a significant loss of morale. And a vulnerable crewman of mine was threatened.”

The Governor nodded gravely, apologetic only as deep as the expression on his face. “I am well aware of your new _companion_ , word travels quickly.” 

Viktor’s reply wedged itself in his throat, biting his tongue in disgust for the thinly veiled insult to his Yuuri. He could feel Christophe’s tentative gaze on him, a silent warning to hold his tongue; both of them could taste the disdain in the man’s voice, but neither would mention it aloud. 

“I want them punished.” Viktor said instead, leaving no room for confusion, giving his anger no room to breathe. “And punished _severely_. Previous sanctions didn’t stop them from threatening an innocent aboard my ship. They deserve no mercy, they deserve no safe harbor. They disobeyed the codes. Twice.”

“And sanctions would stop them again?” the Governor asked with a certain air of disbelief, sipping delicately from his glass. Viktor’s jaw clenched and so did Christophe’s hand where it rested on the arm of his chair.

“I had something different in mind.” Viktor replied with tight lips. “Something befitting such a dishonorable thing.” 

“What did you have in mind, Captain?” he asked, swirling his drink idly. The sound of ice clinking against crystal ground into Viktor’s ears like a burrowing mole, demanding his attention in the worst of ways. “I’m sure you’ve already thought of your requested revenge. You wouldn’t have called for me on such short notice otherwise.”

“I certainly have, Governor, I intend to carry it out myself.” Viktor replied coolly, pushing deeper into the suave charm of Alpha and Captain. It was a subtle shift, but intimidating nonetheless— setting his shoulders back, his chin high, he dominated the space around him, demanding respect. The Governor knew his power was matched here, and Viktor intended to capitalize on that. “But I would like to ask for your favor in one thing first. Arguably the more important aspect of this.”

The Governor sat forward in his seat and waved Viktor on, a small gesture that Viktor read as plain as words on a page. An attempt to regain control, lazily granting him the room to breathe. The air in the room shifted as Viktor leaned closer, pulling the small leaflet he had drafted during the voyage from his inner coat pocket.

“You’ve come prepared.” Clarke took it and flicked through it, reading it slowly. Viktor could feel himself grinding his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm, to hold his tongue despite the sharp pull of anger boiling in his blood. 

“That I have,” Viktor nodded, “A formal request to the magistrates.”

“I see.” Was the reply Viktor received, the Governor’s eyes scanning slowly over the request. “Inspired by recent events, were you?”

Viktor forced out a laugh, wondering how a man could be so blase, so collected when faced with this. He knew he had to conceal his more violent intentions… powerful men enjoyed retaining the power to deal final judgment, and Viktor was more than willing to hide his anger and his resolve, to give Clarke any sense of power over his actions. Positive outcomes were at least more likely if Viktor held his tongue, if he played nice. 

Even if Clarke denied his request, forcing his power over Viktor’s, he knew, in the sort of way that felt as true as the tides, that whatever the Governor thought would be best, Viktor would have his revenge. 

The Governor hummed, a small, surprised noise that Viktor’s ear caught and clung to. “These are certainly unprecedented, Captain,” he murmured, and Viktor knew which suggestions he was referring to. He remembered drafting them, watching Yuuri sleep in their nest, tangled up in the bedsheets, sleeping like the dead. 

_Those who harm innocents, children, and mates when they might not otherwise be involved should be deserving of excommunication upon first offence, death upon second._

“Would this extend to hostage situations as well?” the Governor asked, and Viktor saw where that line of questioning went. Said tactics had been used by the Republic before, by Viktor himself before. Holding first mates and high ranking officers ransom was common practice. But mates? Family? Lovers? Spouses? Viktor’s stomach churned. 

“I imagine so, yes.” Viktor answered firmly, “We have overlooked protections for mates for too long. And not just omegas, but the unaffiliated, the families."

"Starting a family, are you, old friend?" The Governor replied, a small smile on his wry mouth.

Viktor tensed, the mere thought of it a ton of lead in his stomach, the memory of Yuuri’s heat pulling him under and wrenching the air from his lungs. "No, but imagine if someone made an attempt on your daughter's life. Think of the hell you would raise if last year’s insurrection attempt had succeeded. Imagine if your beloved Anne had been killed.”

Viktor hoped his appeal to the Governor’s humanity would land— it was, admittedly, an underhanded tactic, but Yuuri’s safety was at risk, and Viktor could not sit idly by. Viktor watched as something indecipherable flashed behind Clarke’s eyes, a heat that Viktor could not untangle. 

"I would imagine that threat is hardly avoidable in our line of work, Captain." Viktor’s stomach rolled and he stole a sip of the brandy in his glass, hoping it would calm him. “My Anne knew as much when she agreed to marry me.”

The briefest flash of a memory filled Viktor’s mind, of Yuuri, cowering in the dark below deck. Of what he had told him that first night, that night they departed that wretched fishing town. Of how terrified Yuuri had looked when Viktor did his best to isolate him, to protect him by keeping him at an arm’s length… what a horrible plan that had been. 

“I warned my Yuuri of the same threat, Governor. Simply knowing the risk is not enough.”Clarke’s mouth was turned up at the corner in that awful smirk that Viktor hated. He could feel himself growing angrier, heat swelling in his chest and his throat. "You should know as much yourself, Governor. I was there in the Capitol square three years ago this summer. I watched the public hanging of the men who attempted to murder your wife.”

Clarke opened his mouth to retort, but Viktor pushed on. “All of _that_ ,” Viktor spat, feeling his alpha rising despite his attempts to restrain it. “Was simply part and parcel of the occupation? You would deny me that same revenge?"

"That was _justice_ for crime, Captain."

"And is this not also _justice?"_

Viktor's voice had grown louder than expected, an ice cube rattled in the Governor's glass. Chris tensed, setting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. The air in the room shifted immediately.

Christophe knew his tells better than anyone, and that had been a minor advantage over the Governor. Until Chris touched him. Viktor recoiled immediately, glaring at his first mate; it was clear that Christophe knew what he had done by the apologetic gleam in his eye.

The Governor’s gaze was glued to the place where Christophe’s hand rested on Viktor’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing. The room chilled instantly, the Governor’s glare icy and demanding.

“I see.” The Governor’s words were worse than a negative judgment. “Captain, you’re well aware of my preferences for meetings such as these.” His voice was cold, and it chilled Viktor to the bone. “Parlay functions on good faith and I am not certain you are employing proper form.”

“Governor, I apologize,” Viktor ground out, feeling his defeat already lurking in his shadow. With a single movement, Christophe had betrayed just how strongly Viktor felt— just how far he would go to protect his Yuuri. He wrenched his arm free as subtly as he could, but the damage had been done, and there was no returning to politeness, to mouthing his intentions instead of speaking them aloud. 

“Captain Nikiforov,” the Governor interrupted, holding up a dismissive hand to silence him. “I fear you have forgotten your place." Clarke warned, the downturn of his mouth at the corner a grim shadow of what would come. 

It happened with the ferocity of a lightning strike— Viktor was out of his seat, both hands on the Governor’s expensive desk, rattling the assortment of crystal figurines sitting prettily in a case against the eastern wall. 

"I have forgotten _nothing,_ Governor." Viktor retorted, feeling heat roll off his skin beneath his coat. His throat burned where Andrei’s bite had once been, the dark emptiness where his lover’s bond had united them. “You _cannot_ forget the loss of a mate, Governor, the fear, the pain. You would _dare_ deny me-”

Christophe’s poor timing struck again as he laid a hand on his forearm. “Captain-”

“Christophe.” Viktor snarled, pushing away with as much composure as he could muster. “Join me for a short recess? Apologies, Governor, I find myself in need of fresh air.”

The Governor’s mouth was a hard, thin line and he nodded, pulling a pipe from a drawer in that heavy desk. “I’ve cleared my schedule for this. Don’t let me regret that.”

Viktor grit his teeth and turned on his heel, pushing out into the hallway. His heels thudded on the marble floor angrily, belying the thunderstorm rattling in his chest. Everything had been hinging on this, on enforcing respect and restoring what was rightfully his— control. Whelps spurned by the Republic had made an attempt on his crew, his ship, his _mate_ , it could not go unpunished. 

Everything would crumble because of this. 

He finally found a small courtyard, where a couple of Magistrates were idling. Viktor bared his teeth at them, sending them on their way with an offended brow. His alpha, still smothered by the polite goings on of society, was roaring in his chest, rage tinting Viktor’s vision red. 

“Viktor.” Christophe said from across the courtyard, his voice choked with concern. “You need to pull yourself together. You’re growing reckless.” Christophe implored him, his voice barely cutting through the fog of contingencies and worst case scenarios. 

“I would be perfectly fine if not for that sorry showing of empathy,” Viktor snapped, feeling a tension headache building behind his eyes. "He’s going to refuse. _Fuck._ ”

“You don’t know that for sure, Viktor. You need-”  
  
“ _Christophe._ ” Viktor bit, feeling cornered like a wet rat. “What if he refuses? What if I can't protect him, if we’re excommunicated? Christophe, I… I can’t destroy this. The crew, you, Yuuri… all of you would pay for this.”

“We would stand with you. You know that.” Chris replied, closing the distance between them and grasping Viktor by the wrist. “We aren’t loyal to the Republic, to Clarke, to anyone but you.”

His heart hammered in his throat, threatening to choke him completely. There was a distant ache below his collar, a dull, phantom pain where scars had long since faded. His hand instinctively came to rest at his throat, running his fingers over the long gone bond marks Andrei had left behind. 

A sharp burst of memory erupted in Viktor's mind, rich hazel eyes fixed on a distant nothing. Those last words, the final sigh of breath on his first love's lips. Darkness swallowed him whole, the fading image of Yuuri flickered in and out of view, those warm mahogany eyes brimming with tears. He was dying again, drowning in his own blood with Yuuri's arms around him. 

_Yuuri._

A sharp sob ripped from Viktor's throat, gratefully smothered by Christophe's shoulder. "Is it bad today?" Chris asked softly, passing Viktor the waterskin he had tucked into his coat pocket. "The memories?"

Viktor took the skin and drank deeply, letting a tear squeeze from between shut eyelids. He swallowed and nodded, still shaking with the aftershock. It all felt fresh and new again, a clean wound, mangled and awful in his chest.

"I think he would be proud of you." Chris said softly, his eyes warm where they met Viktor's. "Doing this in his memory."

Viktor's stomach lurched and he swallowed down another tired, angry sob. "I’ve destroyed our chance, I’ve ruined it. I know I have."

"You _have not,"_ Christophe insisted firmly. "You caught yourself before things were _ruined._ And if we're blaming anyone, we should be blaming me."

"No, don't take the blame for that." Viktor looked up from his boots with a barely contained quivering lip. "The memories…" Viktor shivered as a thrum of ache ran down the length of his spine. "I let myself go too far."

Christophe sighed, but didn't argue; Viktor was grateful for that. 

“Perhaps a change of approach is necessary, Captain.” Christophe offered instead, his brows wriggling conspiratorially.

“What do you have in mind?” Viktor asked, sliding Yuuri’s ribbon between his fingers. Yuuri would have been better at this, Viktor thought, imagining Yuuri at his side, regal and beautiful… he would have dressed the man down instantly and wonderfully.

Christophe’s smile grew wider, sly like the clever fox he was. The smirk was contagious and Viktor was soon wearing it as well, leaning close to hear his secret like they were school children gossipping. 

“Let’s be done concealing our intentions, yes?” Christophe purred, “I think we’ve both had enough downplaying what we plan to do.”

Viktor felt his alpha rumble, his curiosity piqued. “Shall we be explicit, then?” Chris nodded, pulling a cigar from an inner pocket of his coat and offering it to him. “Tell him exactly what we’ll do to those that cross us?”

Christophe lit a match with a flick of his wrist, nodding as liquorice-flavored smoke filled the air. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Captain.”

The staff was horrified when the two strolled back through the halls, twin cigars lit and rolling like chimneys— the Governor himself looked like Viktor had asked him for a roll in the hay after their meeting. His face was still red and his brow deeply set, wrinkles carved into his forehead as if chiseled into stone. 

“I trust your break for air has cleared your head, Captain.” the Governor’s voice was stern and pointed, and Viktor nodded as Chris poured himself another drink. “Wonderful. I had much higher hopes for you than such an outburst.”

Viktor smiled wryly, leaning back in his seat and pulling heavily on his cigar, grateful for something to keep his hands from shaking. The anger still lurked below the surface, as it would until he had sought his revenge, but the cigar prevented it from showing. At least for a moment. 

“I’m quite sorry for my earlier behavior, Governor,” Viktor apologized, breathing slowly and letting the smoke warm him from the inside out. “But I fear I haven’t been as clear as I would like to be.”

Clarke’s face twisted, one burly brow arching upward. “Is that so?”

Christophe returned to his seat with drinks for the three of them, which Viktor gladly took, allowing a moment to pass before he began in earnest. The drink tasted like old wood and smoke, in a way that was just this side of drinkable.

“Governor, I have always been a vocal supporter of yours, we both know this.” Viktor began, keeping himself carefully in line. The Governor nodded tersely, and Viktor could feel the weight of his caution heavy in the gesture. “I would venture to say that my support has kept you in this position as long as you have held it. Our relationship has been beneficial for us both, until this afternoon.”

Christophe shifted in his seat, a small grin on his lips. If not for their carefully constructed facades, Viktor would undoubtedly be able to sense Chris’s alpha crooning in delight at what was unfolding. 

“I am hard pressed to find this interaction detrimental,” the Governor retorted, a mild scoff in his voice. “Only disappointing. You act far below your station, Captain.”

“I would argue that it is _you,_ Governor, acting below your station. You bow to your own pride instead of justice for those wronged.” Viktor replied with the cool disaffection he had perfected over the years. “You _require_ my support, my vocal approval. I could say one ill word of you and your throne would collapse beneath you.”

Clarke’s mouth fell agape. “I do _not_ ,” he breathed, his face growing red and angry with offense. “How dare you-”

“How dare I what? State the truth?” Viktor interrupted, feeling a push of confidence from deep beneath his skin. “I could ruin you and we both know it.”

Clarke leaned back in his overstuffed chair, gripping his glass just too tightly. The grimace on his features was plain as day— revealing the fear beneath his carefully practiced mask. Viktor pushed out a careful breath, letting the smoke from his cigar waft through the air, dancing with dust motes in the waning afternoon light. How terrifying it must be, for a man to openly defy a government, such a flimsy throne if it sits on a structure of well-placed bets and wagers.

The silence roared in his ears, his gamble growing surer and surer by the minute. 

“What are you going to do?” Clarke hissed, “Kill them all? You’ll be nothing more than a disobedient pup, rebelling against his father.”

“Or will you be nothing more than a tyrant?” Viktor rebutted without pause to breathe. “I would wager even your loyal would have a difficult time arguing against me, against my mate, my crew, my cause.”

Clarke’s mouth was fixed open, wide and red like a wound.

"I am going to hunt them, you're right.” Viktor said, his voice low like a promise. “Your punishment did nothing to stop them, and this time, I'm going to protect mine. But, Governor, whatever you think, I pose no threat to you. You could take this chance to weaken my position here, but it will do you more harm than good.” Viktor breathed easily, smiling around the end of his cigar. “How strong will you look, when I return after defying you?"

Clarke did his best not to choke on his expensive whisky, the ice now long-melted. Viktor had found a corner to push him into— and he would not be relenting. The chasm between them whistled like the great mouth of a canyon. 

“Fine,” Clarke snarled, angrily penning the heads of agreement, and sliding it across the desk for Viktor to read. The decree, messily written, approved his demands, though the verbiage allowed for much more ambiguity, should someone unfamiliar read it. 

He had won the day, but this certainly was a tentative stalemate. Viktor would have his reward, would have his revenge… and if this was the last thing he needed from the Governor, from Sanisia, so be it. Viktor gladly signed his name at the bottom and watched with morbid glee as the Governor did the same. 

"Your retribution is sanctioned, no recourse will be taken.” Clarke said through tightly gritted teeth. He stood, pushing his seat away from the desk and rounding it, Viktor’s pamphlet still clutched in his fist. “I will speak with the magistrates about including your requests in the code."

Viktor held his breath, not daring to release it until his two feet were safely aboard the _Stammi_ again. “Thank you, Governor. I am glad to see you make the wise choice.”

Clarke winced, leading them to the study door and pushing it open. He nodded firmly to Christophe, who walked with all the jauntiness of a fresh-faced school boy into the hall beyond. 

“Enjoy your remaining stay on my island.” Clarke grumbled, his threat clear and unambiguous. “And Captain?” He added after Viktor had bowed, donning his hat yet again. 

“Yes, Governor?” Viktor answered, matching his tone with a low growl. 

“Protect your mate.” Viktor could taste the bile in those words, the threat as sharp as the blade in his boot. 

“I will.” Viktor returned, mirroring the glowering, roiling heat with his hackles up. “Good day.”

He didn’t dare exhale until the estate’s heavy wrought-iron gates were closed behind him and Christophe opened his coat, revealing the twin glasses they had been sipping from. 

“Awfully bold, Christophe.” Viktor huffed a laugh, feeling freer than he had in weeks.

The weight on Viktor’s shoulders fully fell off into the sea as Yuuri met him at the ladder, wrapped in a borrowed shirt much too large for him, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, an apron still tied around his waist. Someone must have called him up from the galley— he was flushed and breathing hard as if he had run to meet him. 

Viktor sank into his arms, pressing his nose to Yuuri’s throat and breathing deeply. The soft, soothing scent of his mate sank into his bones, and Yuuri hurried to remove the collar from around Viktor’s throat. 

“Did things go well?” Yuuri asked, cupping the base of Viktor’s head, sensing the heaviness in his shoulders, the exhaustion in his scent. 

“I hate politics." Viktor sighed and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, the fullness of his lower lip. Yuuri’s smile felt like sunlight spilling over his skin after a long voyage.

Chris clapped him on the back, a strange combination of relief and the ghost of melancholy lingering in his features. Yuuri’s heart ached for the first mate as Viktor shook his hand firmly, and pulled Christophe in for an embrace as well. 

They shared a acknowledging nod and separated, Viktor’s jaw set in that determined posture. "We depart at dawn in two day’s time, boys," Viktor announced with pride, doffing his hat and setting it on Yuuri’s head instead. “Drink your fullest!"

He could barely hear the crew cheering over the thud of his own heartbeat, over the storm in his own mind over the havoc his parlay might cause for future days.

"Vitya." Yuuri whispered, smiling wide and bright as he pulled Viktor from the racket above and into their cabin. "Celebrate with me?" he purred and closed the door behind them.

"I'd love nothing more, Yuura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, loves <3 next week, Christophe is reunited with someone special. 
> 
> <3 ia


	18. Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christophe is reunited with someone he thought he had lost.

Negotiations having succeeded with the Governor, albeit tentatively, Viktor relieved Chris of his duties for the remainder of their stay at Sanisia, giving him free reign to roam as he pleased until they shoved off. He had even provided a healthy purse of coin to spend, a thank you from the Captain for his assistance. 

There was always a little hope in Christophe’s heart, that the days he spent alone on shore he would find  _ him _ , the right  _ him _ . The man he had met in that tavern, the night they met Yuuri. Seeing his Captain so happy and blissful with Yuuri at his side gave him hope. That he might someday find that with someone, with the man he had met that night. 

His dreams had become full of those enchanting charcoal-colored eyes, his soft, sweet voice and laugh. Chris hadn’t asked for his name that night, and the man hadn’t given it. Chris saw his face in every crowd while on land, every head of brown hair might have been his, every light, airy laugh could have been his. 

It had been so long since that night, undoubtedly he had found a mate and moved on, but Chris always hoped. He had sworn off brothels, sworn off whoring, sworn off trying to find any other. He had indulged the fantasy a few too many times, of star-crossed lovers; of ships passing in the night, of destiny and of fate, drawing them closer to each other.

But another day at port had passed uneventfully; another day of strolling alone through the market, napping under a tree in the park, reading a book he didn't care about, and drinking to dizziness in the small hours of morning.

The morning dawned and a headache hit him in the temples like a cannonball, a throaty groan was his morning salutation. The sunrise hurt his eyes, burning even behind his eyelids. He rolled away from the sun streaming through the window and onto his side, encountering a warm lump under the blanket.

_ Gods damn it. _

He'd done it again— let himself fall into bed too drunk to stop himself. The drink just… drew it out of him. Loneliness was beginning to win the battle, was too great to push back with silly romantic fancies of falling in love first.. Maybe he was meant to be alone, a life unmated.

His mind wandered to the sweet, brunette omega he'd met the night they had met Yuuri, as it always did. The sweet scent of his hair, the easy way he had fallen into Chris’s lap, his laugh, bright like a silver bell. His heart ached— how he could miss someone who was ostensibly a stranger was beyond him, but the pain felt as visceral as any injury he could recall. Chris sighed and curled around the warmth beside him. He could at least pretend it was him, for now.

His partner shifted with the contact, a sleepy sigh escaping his lips. His skin was soft and warm, a dark mop of messy bedhead tucking himself under Christophe’s stubbly chin and purring gently, a quiet, soft thing that he hadn’t felt in a while. It felt pleasant against his chest, his alpha happy at the soft purred noises of man in his arms. He wrapped himself tightly around his partner’s smaller frame, pulling him in that much closer and burying his nose in his hair and breathing deeply.

The lemongrass of his scent hit him full-force, heady, earthy, so strong Chris could taste him. It tugged on his memory just right and a sharp gasp fell out of his mouth. The scent grew stronger, in response to the sudden burst of his own rosy pheromones. The purring deepened and Chris felt the flutter of eyelashes against his bare chest. 

“Mmmm, finally awake?” came a soft voice, colored by a rumbling purr. Chris’s heart flipped in his chest at the sound of it, the familiar tone, his accent… it was  _ right _ . 

“Barely,” Chris rumbled in his morning voice kind of way. The laugh was right too, and it stole the breath from his lungs. “Can I see your eyes, beautiful?” he asked, breathing him in slowly, sure all of it was somehow all a vivid dream. That light, sparkling laugh vibrated against his chest again and Chris's hazel eyes were met with those dark, gunmetal greys. Chris didn't hold back his gasp.

“I found you.” The man whispered, and Christophe couldn’t ignore the truth now. It was him. “You, my jolly sailor bold, a very difficult man to track down.”

“You’ve been looking for me, have you?” Chris asked, eyes blinking slow and the pounding headache easing with the soothing scent filling his nose. It was really him, after all this time. He had hardly changed in all the years since he had met him.

“Aye, I’ve been looking for the man who showed me the best night of my life, and I finally found you. It bears repeating, you were  _ very _ difficult to track down.” He laughed, dancing teasing fingers through the dark curls on his chest. “You sailors and your constant voyages. Do you never settle down in one place?”

“Sailor.” Chris barked a tired laugh, a tinny ringing in his ears. “I’m not sure ‘sailor’ is the best descriptor, but no, we tend not to stay in one place for long.”

“Mm. So I’ve learned.” Long lashes fanned over his cheeks as he looked up at Chris, a playful mirth in those eyes as he traced wandering lines over his skin. “What word would you use instead, Christophe Giacometti? Not a sailor… but a pirate?”

Chris swallowed thickly, knowing it would only do harm to lie. “Perhaps. Does that scare you?” Chris asked, any false confidence, any suave dissipating as he pushed more scent into the soft space between them, something spiced joining the lemongrass. Chris’s alpha was pulled to the surface fast as lightning, recognizing the unmistakable pull of arousal in his scent.

“Not in the slightest.” He murmured, his voice dropping a few steps into a register that sounded like pure honey in Chris’s ears, the edge of a purr resonating at the end of his sentence. The tone of his voice, the slow, rolling tide of his scent, the warmth of his body, all of it pulled Chris deeper into his heat. 

“Ah, well. That’s good, I suppose,” Chris shuddered, fighting against his alpha. 

“Everything alright down there, sweetheart?” The scent became overpowering then, as a wet mouth met Chris’s throat. Chris could feel the pressure of a hand moving down the middle of his chest, along the dark line of hair leading down the midline of his stomach. “Your heart is racing, Christophe.”

Chris shivered at the sound of his name in that mouth and rolled his hips against the thigh slotted between his own. “You’re having quite the effect on me, darling,” Chris managed through a hitched gasp. “What’s your name?” he stuttered, his question ending with a tight, choked-off moan. 

“Phichit,” those soft lips whispered against his throat, sliding open and mouthing at the gland there. Chris moaned, a low, loud thing in his chest. “Phichit Chulanont.” His name was  _ Phichit _ . What a lovely name. From the South-Eastern peninsula, if his memory of geography and linguistics served him. “Should I be offended you didn’t remember?”

He pressed closer to Chris, nuzzling into his chest softly, leaning to the left ever so slightly to reveal his throat, uncollared, unmarked. Before Chris could blink, he was salivating and hovering centimeters above the flesh there. He recoiled, nearly throwing himself off the bed in the process.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry, I… I can’t believe I almost did  _ that _ … I, I should go.” Chris scrambled to climb out of bed, needing to get that delicious scent out of his nose, all the while his alpha screamed for more, for just another whiff, just a tiny taste of him. Phichit reached across the small bed and yanked him back down to the mattress by the wrist, Chris yelped at the sudden movement.

“Oh no, you don’t. I didn’t track you halfway around the world for you to run away at the last second. Get back here.” Phichit demanded, making Chris’s alpha respond in a way it never had before. He had never felt so pulled to bow to a command from an omega before now. “I’m cold, you can’t just run off and leave me freezing.”

Chris nodded gravely and returned, swallowing thickly as he laid back down in the narrow bed, and Phichit curled up against his chest again. He slotted himself even closer, nearly all of him resting on Chris’s. Their warmth bled together seamlessly and with the haze of scent in the room, the thick, heady arousal rolling off both bodies, it was difficult to distinguish where one man began and the other ended.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Christophe Giacometti, First Mate of the  _ Stammi Vicino _ .” Chris was only momentarily flustered by the quick, easy way Phichit rattled off his rank, before his statement registered in his pheromone-hazy mind. 

"You… _savior of all,”_ Chris swore under his breath in his first language as Phichit’s hands wandered further below the sheets. “You sure do know a lot about me, Phichit. What else have you learned?" He asked breathlessly, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the hand dancing between his thighs.

“I know that you were the eldest son of a wealthy noble, but status and titles only brought you pain. So you renounced your title at sixteen, changed your name and never looked back. I know that you favor rum to vodka, and wine over mead and you can't seem to get it up when you're drunk." 

Chris spluttered, cheeks burning as he -  _ Phichit _ , he reminded himself, the name tasted like honey on his tongue - ticked off his intel on his fingers with a playful smile. A smile that looked too damned good at this hour of the day.

"And how do you know all that?"

Phichit chuckled, honeyed and warm. "It took me quite a while to learn it all, but people tend to remember a face like yours. Not to mention that luscious rear of yours, though I'm glad to hear that fewer people remembered that.” He teased, his eyes flashing greedily. He thanked the gods for gifting him such a remarkable ass, that an angel like Phichit might have remembered him for it.

“I- I can’t believe you’ve been looking for me. How? How did you find me?” Chris asked, rumbling low in his chest at the thought of the man searching for him too.

“I have my ways.” He replied simply, the purr growing louder, the scent growing stronger.

“I’ve… I’ve been looking for you too, Phichit. Really. Every port we’ve stopped off in. I always look for you.” Chris hurried to supply, his mouth running faster than his mind. “You’re an awful long way from that shithole Rockport-”

Chris’ voice pitched into another moan as Phichit’s hand trailed from his forearm to the muscled lines of his abdomen, to the soft thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He gasped at the boldness, pulling more of his scent into his mouth.

"You weren’t doing a very good job looking for me if I found you first. But that’s beside the point.” Chris flushed at the shot to his ego, but laughed it off into Phichit’s mouth as he kissed him. “I’ve been searching for you all this time and think I'm interested in  _ talking? _ That after three years of pining for you we’d just sit down and have a little chat about life? Not the catch-up I had in mind, darling. And your little drunken fumble last night hardly counts."

“Was it that bad?” Chris asked sheepishly, knowing his drunk counterpart was no better than a novice in the sheets. 

“Like I said, you just couldn’t get it up. But you were so cute, mumbling ‘don’t go’ over and over that I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.” The beginning of a memory stirred in Chris’ mind, of trying to convince himself that the man he had pulled into his lap and had been kissing had been his Peach, the one he left behind.

He’d been close to the truth, then.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave. I don’t know if I could bear it-” Phichit cut him off again with an unfair squeeze at the base of his cock, chuckling at the throaty gasp it pulled from him. He felt himself hardening again, Phichit’s warm hand gently pulling at the flesh of his deflated knot.

“I thought I said no more talking?” Phichit teased, silencing him (quite effectively) by slotting soft lips against his, drinking in the rumbling groan that fell into his mouth.

Bursts of lemongrass filled Chris's mouth as they kissed, Phichit stroked him with a slow, steady hand and it drove him slowly wild; he found himself gently rocking into his palm and his wandering hands finding the curve of Phichit's hip. He trailed down that long line to the muscular swell of his ass, savoring that tiny hitched breath that escaped against his cheek. It was soft, but strong, the type of strength built from years of dance.

“So strong here,” Chris crooned, kneading the flesh in his hands, listening to Phichit’s soft, breathy moans. “Have you still been dancing, all this time?”

“Yes,” Phichit breathed, his cheeks flushed and dark. “I’m glad you remember that much.”

Christophe crooned with pride, his chest puffing out a bit at the praise. “Of course I remembered. As if anyone could forget the way you move.” Those dark eyes met his and Chris found he was smiling too, nearly to the point of pain in his cheeks. He lifted his hand to caress Phichit’s cheek, his skin still just as soft as a peach.

“I danced for you. Every night.” Phichit whispered as he nuzzled into the touch, purring softly and pressing in closer. Chris felt the pull like gravity, catching his lips in a kiss that deepened slowly, a languid, unhurried thing. Soft breaths puffed against his skin as their scents twined together, Chris’ own deepening with his arousal, a blooming rose dripping with honey. 

“Would you dance for me again? Can I see you move again?” Chris asked, his hand fell from his cheek to his hip, Phichit nodded gently, sliding somehow even closer, pressing himself in a long line against Chris’ body. His skin was warm and soft under his touch, and with the moaned encouragement from Phichit, he ran long fingers under the curve of his ass, earning a gasp and another slight shift of his posture, his legs parting under the touch.

Christophe’s stomach twisted as his fingers found slippery flesh, wet with slick; Phichit answered with a tempting roll of his hips and a breathy moan.

“Do I have to jump on, or are you going to start-” Chris interrupted the sass with the press of one fingertip against the furled muscle of Phichit’s entrance, his body pulling him in with almost no resistance. “ _ Oh, gods, _ ” Phichit moaned at the intrusion, rocking back against Chris’ finger, the sound of wet flesh pulling a blush to Christophe’s cheeks. “ _ Yes.” _

It wasn’t long before he was adding a second finger, stretching him gently but surely, listening to the rush of his breathing, the sound of a tongue passing over a full lower lip. 

“More, more,” Phichit huffed hotly, and the request ripped a low growl from his chest; another finger slid in with the two and pressed down, teasing at the spot Christophe knew would have him panting, shivering.

“What were you saying,  _ mon cher? _ Am I going to start  _ what _ ?” Christophe hardly recognized his own voice as he growled into Phichit’s ear, low and dark with want.

“I, h-hah, Christophe…” Phichit gasped, canting his hips up and back, a wordless request; Christophe wanted to hear it, he wanted to hear the words fall off those soft lips.

“ _ Phichit…” _ Chris moaned into his ear, his deep croon musical and tinted with arousal. He watched as the muscled planes of Phichit’s shoulders and back tensed and writhed under his touch, spine bowing and arching. The delicious sound of his blissed moaning was swallowed up by his own skin— Phichit had rested his lips against his chest which was rapidly growing wet with sweat and heaving at the sight of his Peach, finally in his arms and moaning his name. How many nights had he spent fantasizing about this?

"Christophe,  _ please- _ " Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of Phichit's eyes. He had waited so long for this: he had dreamed about it every time he was alone during his heats, fantasised about it as he danced, pretending he was dancing for olive-green eyes, blonde hair and strong arms. Now he was here, at long last. And he didn't want to wait any longer.  "Fuck me, Christophe," he panted, shaking and wet, “Please, don’t make me wait another moment.”

“I thought you’d never ask, beautiful.” Christophe growled hungrily, quickly withdrawing his fingers and rolling Phichit onto his side, wrapping himself around his smaller frame and reveling in the difference in their size. He felt as though he could completely cover Phichit in himself, smother him entirely in his scent. With a low, rumbling growl he slicked himself up with what wetness had gathered in his hand and moaned at the sensation. 

“I said don’t make me wait,” Phichit snapped, though his voice wavered slightly. “In me, now.” It was a demand and a plea in one, and Christophe would never dream of denying him. A sharp gasp met Chris’s ears as he pressed in, any patience he had evaporating in an instant.

“I won’t make you wait anymore, sweetheart.” Chris whispered into his ear, plunging in and ripping a ragged moan from Phichit’s throat. He wrapped both of his arms around Phichit’s frame, teasing at a nipple, stationing one hand at the base of his cock, dripping with precome and flushed red at the tip.

Phichit’s moan sounded like a sob, a cry that sounded like it came directly from his omega. He canted his hips back, desperate for every last bit of Chris’s length to fill him, claim him, to take him like he had wanted for so long. There hadn’t been another, not in those long two years. No one else. Only him. Only Chris. Only  _ his  _ Alpha.

"Y-yes love, I'm yours. And you're mine." Chris growled, the sound an aphrodisiac to Phichit’s lust heavy mind, far too gone to worry that he had said all of that aloud. Chris began to pull at the heated, pulsing length of Phichit's cock, teasing and twisting at an achingly slow pace, milking the delirious sounds from those wet kiss-bruised lips.

“Chris, there!  _ R-right there! _ ” Phichit cried, his instinct blurring anything beyond those hands, beyond the sensation of the length inside him. He felt his hips moving of their own volition, thrusting into Chris’ fist and back onto his cock, arching into the fingertips swirling and pulling and pinching his nipple, writhing in the endless waves of pleasure.

“So perfect for me, darling, so warm and tight for me,” Chris praised, overwhelmed with the sensations he had only dreamed of before. “I won’t last very long,  _ gods, _ you feel so good around me, so good, so  _ right. _ ” Chris moaned into his ear, sucking the soft lobe into his mouth and picking up his pace around Phichit’s cock, twitching and messy in his palm.

“So good, I’m cl-close,” Phichit moaned, losing himself in the sensation of it; he quickly devolved into barely more than his cravings and desire, losing the capacity of speech with the heat of Chris’ body wrapped around his, the cock holding him open, fucking him so fully, so perfectly, the wet noises of their coupling and the growl of his Alpha so deftly taking him apart. 

The screaming need of his omega to be claimed, to be marked by this man, pitched higher and higher, finally reaching its climax with a tight clench of every muscle in his body and the shuddering release of every drop of his strength. 

He babbled jumbled recitations of Christophe’s name messily, mingled with ‘yes’ and ‘please’. It tore a feral growl from Chris’s chest, immediately preceding that perfect, clenching spasm around his cock, buried deep inside him— hot spend spilled over his fingers underscored by shuddering, heaving breaths.

“So am I, love,” Chris moaned breathlessly, carefully holding back his orgasm. He loved hearing his sweet Phichit’s voice so wrecked with pleasure. “May I, inside?”

“ _ Yes! _ Gods, please, _ now! _ ” Phichit cried, pressing himself further against Chris, arching his back, presenting despite their reclined position. Chris felt the tension in his core uncoiling, growling deep in his chest as every nerve in his body was set alight.

“Take it all,  _ ma petite _ ,” Christophe shuddered as he spilled into Phichit’s body, his chest heaving and a rumbling growl rolling off his tongue. As terribly romantic it was, Chris had never felt an orgasm so satisfying as this, as feeling the fluttering clench of his omega around him, of that sweet voice mewling with overstimulation with the stretch of his swelling knot inside him.

The knot locked them together and Phichit’s breathless cries quieted, shifting to a soft, tired purr that vibrated through his back and against Chris's chest. Christophe peppered gentle kisses against Phichit’s temple and his hairline, finding even the taste of his sweat warm and heady on his tongue. Chris moved to wipe the spend from his hand, but a small noise stopped him.

“Yes,  _ mon cher? _ ” The question hadn't finished falling from his lips before the omega had pulled his hand to his lips, carefully licking and sucking his fingers clean of his own spend. Chris felt himself throb inside Phichit, huffing a hot moan into his shoulder as his tongue swirled around the tip of each digit and laved long stripes over his palm. His stomach twisted pleasantly at the small suckling noises, his mind eagerly supplying different scenarios for such sounds.

_ His _ omega's tongue laved hot and wet against his flesh and his mind spun, his alpha growling low and loud at the sensation. Chris found himself positioned over Phichit’s uncollared throat, the lemongrass scent pouring from his gland in a mesmerizing pull like the tides.

“Gods, Phichit… you smell so good here.” Chris moaned against his throat, the slow roll of the omega's pheromones sending chills down his spine. It felt as though he was being drawn in, ever closer and deeper toward him, a star falling to the earth.

_ Mine, mine, mine. _ Chris's alpha roared in his ears, the smell of his omega screaming to be claimed, to be made his. He flicked his tongue out to taste that flesh, to find the spot where he would lay his mark.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Phichit squirmed against him, the jovial tease returning to his hoarse voice, a strained laugh following his words. Chris snapped back to the moment and jerked away, tugging against the swollen flesh lodged inside Phichit’s body; he groaned at the pressure and another tired chuckle rolled off Phichit’s tongue.

“I… I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Chris apologized softly as he willed his alpha into submission, the feral creature in him screaming to sink into the tender, swollen flesh of his gland, to claim, to mark, to bind itself to Phichit’s omega. But Chris knew better, despite how much he wished he could.

“Christophe…” His light voice called him back again, blinking heavily in the what was now undoubtedly afternoon sunshine. “Not now, but soon, I would let you do that.” Phichit said simply, his voice strained and tired.

“Phichit, I-” Christophe’s mind was spinning, messy and aimless paths taking him through thousands of different possibilities and futures with Phichit at his side. “Truly?”

“Don't you think I would have stopped you when you were licking me there half a minute ago if I didn't want you too?” Phichit answered with a salacious smile. That heated grin went straight to Chris' cock. “Just put the teeth away for now.”

“You… you want to bond.” Christophe repeated, all the air suddenly rushing from his lungs and his heart hiccuped in his chest. “With me.” It didn’t feel real, he didn’t know how it could be real.

“Now you're on the right track, blondie.” Phichit laughed again, the musical sound that had set Chris's heart on fire so many years ago. Chris pushed himself back up, nosing at the reddening flesh of Phichit's throat, laying kitten licks and huffing breaths as he took in lungfuls of his warm, earthy scent. “No teeth.”

Chris moaned and nodded, marking the outline of his gland with dark lovebites, carefully avoiding the gland itself. Phichit squirmed under his touch and craned his neck further, his pulse thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings under his skin.

“Phichit, may I bond with you? May I be your alpha?” Chris asked breathlessly against his skin. 

“So formal, Christophe. I didn't have you pegged as the old-fashioned type." Phichit teased, yet the alpha could smell the heightened arousal in the omega's lemongrass scent, hear the purr growing louder from his toned chest, see the way his dark eyes dilated with need. “Asking so early.”

"Is that a yes, Peach?" Chris nosed at his throat again, grinning at the tiny whimper he earned from beneath him, his alpha shifting more to the forefront of his mind as the smell of his mate,  _ gods, please let him be his mate _ , grew thicker, almost choking him in the most wonderful way.

“Yes, gods, yes.” Phichit grabbed a handful of blonde curls, pulling Christophe in for a kiss. “I've waited so long for this. For you." a tear pricked at the corner of his eye, and Chris felt his own chest heave at the sight. He gently brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

"Me too,  _ mon cher _ ." He whispered thickly, his own olive-green eyes wet with unshed tears and a bright smile blooming on his lips. "I've passed too many nights at sea imagining this, imagining you in my bed, your scent on my pillow, my marks in your skin for all to see." Chris’s cock twitched inside him as his knot uncoiled and he pulled himself free.

Phichit moaned and quickly straddled Chris’s hips, pushing him into the bed. “Then mark me, Christophe,” he purred, the sound both sinful and musical in Chris’s ears. Chris gasped as Phichit took him in again, leaning down and sucking bruises into his throat. “Let’s show the world who we belong to.”

* * *

“So you found him then?” Viktor asked, peering over the golden rims of his glasses, carefully eyeing the smattering of hickeys on his throat and chest. Chris laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, gently scratching at the short, dark hairs at the back of his neck.

“I did. I found him, Captain. Requesting permission to bring aboard a new recruit?” The first mate asked sheepishly, a light laugh echoing from the man perched on Viktor's lap.

“Permission granted. I'd love to meet your new mate, Christophe.” Yuuri said with a gentle purr, a soft chuckle rumbling from Viktor below him.

“You know, Yuuri, you're going to need to learn how to say 'no’ to him at some point.” Viktor sighed, “He’ll wring you of all your goodwill just like he did me.”

“Duly noted,  _ Captain _ .” Yuuri teased, rolling his eyes and turning back to Christophe with a knowing look on his features. “Join us for dinner tonight, if you’re able to make yourselves decent for company.”

Christophe laughed and nodded, feeling himself warm with the thought of bringing Phichit into the fray of sailors and pirates. If the tale he had spun him earlier held true, he would be able to hold his own aboard, just as Yuuri had.

“I will do my best, but I cannot promise anything.” Chris replied diplomatically, trying his best to maintain composure. Phichit was waiting in his own cabin below, and he was positively itching to hold him in his arms again.

“Well, Phichit is waiting for me down below, so I'm going to head back,” the first mate stammered as the air in the room thickened with his Captain’s pheromones. They had been nearly inseparable as of late, but Chris found himself happier than he had ever been for Viktor at the development. Neither of the two said a word as he departed the great cabin.

As Chris briskly returned to his own cabin, he barely kept his alpha under control as memories of that morning filtered in and out of his mind, of what Phichit had said as they touched each other, what he had said they would do. How many times they would do them. And in which positions. A part of him hoped Phichit would behave himself when he finally met Yuuri and Viktor, but another part of him hoped he would be exactly like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't not include this from harbor. Chris deserves his mate as much as Yuuri deserves his clickmate <3 
> 
> next week, revenge is had.
> 
> <3 ia


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge and recovery, confessions and questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, the first part of this chapter is rather violent, but softness and smut follows! Enjoy!

The weeklong voyage to Evalta had Yuuri holed up in the cabin under Viktor's careful supervision, though neither of them would complain at the closeness. Any urge to return to the cabin down below dissipated without a trace. Yuuri savored Viktor’s doting, drinking in the affection he gave between heated planning sessions with Christophe and a few of their trusted subordinates. Seeing Viktor plot his revenge in one breath and coo at him with moony blue eyes in the next breath made Yuuri feel seen and cared for in a way he hadn’t known before.

He and Phichit became fast friends, The two had spent what felt like an eternity together over just a few days, but every day together felt as if they were reuniting, not getting to know one another. Perhaps they had known each other in a past life, perhaps in another world they might have met years ago. But in that time, in that world, they may as well have known each other for their entire lives. 

Vicchan made himself at home among the ship’s crew as well, becoming a spoiled favorite of Cookie’s and a tentative friend of the chicken and goat down below. The pup slept in their bed at Yuuri’s feet, begging for table scraps at every meal, which Viktor always provided. There was one singular harrowing afternoon, a curious nose brought the pup below deck unaccompanied. Yuuri had found him sitting at Cookie’s feet, begging for his breakfast. Doors remained closed at night after that incident.

The atmosphere aboard the  _ Stammi _ grew ever more tense the closer they sailed to their destination. Yuuri could sense the shift in the alphas in Viktor’s inner circle— Christophe too, all of them reacted with gritted teeth and strong angry scents that had Yuuri’s head spinning. 

Viktor changed too, sinking into his protective instinct; his alpha rumbling angrily at the thought of Yuuri even leaving his line of sight. Yuuri was content to stay in the cabin, of course, the added stress of their planning only made him want to retreat deeper into his nest, hold Vicchan closer, seek out Viktor’s warmth in bed. 

When the  _ Stammi _ dropped her anchor a mile offshore, the tension in the air was nearly unbearable. Nothing soothed it, nothing Yuuri did broke it. Viktor’s jaw was clenched tight, his mouth a taut line across his face. 

“No one will hurt you again, Yuuri.” Viktor swore as the sun began to set over Evalta, and Yuuri was more than reluctant to allow Viktor to disembark. 

Evalta was a seedy port city, much,  _ much _ worse than Sanisia had been— it pulled at his omega uncomfortably, but with a bit of convincing and some extra precautions, Yuuri’s ugly worry eased, but only slightly. He insisted on leaving his scent heavy on his alpha’s tongue and in his skin, and helping him prepare for the fight with a few new lovebites and other claiming marks. Viktor's silver hair braided tightly down the middle of his back by Yuuri's own hands, a blue ribbon woven into the length of it with whispered prayers to the gods for his safekeeping.

Yuuri spun Viktor’s heavy silver ring around his finger and tugged a borrowed coat tighter around him as he watched his Captain shove off in the smaller, auxiliary rowboat.

Viktor led the group into the heart of the city as the sky faded from purple to deep indigo, anger burning in his chest. The words from the Governor rang in his ears as he led his faithful few through dark streets and alleyways.

Christophe’s hand on his shoulder was a reassuring weight as they came upon their destination, the place they had planned to scour entirely, to make the surviving thieves pay for their mistake. 

One by one enemies fell, crumpling with muffled screams, calls for help only wet gurgling sounds as blood spilled from slit throats onto dirt floors. When they reached the innermost rooms, their leader had no one to call for reconnaissance, and Viktor took the worst kind of pleasure in snuffing his life out.

“The Governor’s dog, now, Nikiforov?” the man laughed with wild eyes, the fear plain as day on his features. “Running around enforcing the  _ law _ like the obedient pup you are?”

Viktor barked a laugh. “If I’m a dog, what does that make you and your traitors?” The man fumbled with a weapon under his coat, but one of Viktor’s men quickly disarmed him, throwing the weapon to the ground. “Nothing more than mangy curs.”

Viktor hadn’t tasted the thrill of another man’s fear in far too long. It felt as though he was using a muscle long dormant, or stretching after a long sleep. It felt  _ good _ . The scent of blind fear sated the feral creature in him, the revenge-hungry alpha repaying the terror he had seen in Yuuri’s eyes that night. His precious Yuuri, kept safe in his nest, in their cabin under a guard’s watchful eye, with Phichit and the pup on the davenport to keep him calm in Viktor's absence. 

He stood back, nodding at his flanking officers and they made quick work of forcing him to the ground. Viktor savored the retching sound he made as Christophe’s knee connected with his groin, the ragged gasp of air would be one of his last. Even if such a cretin’s pain was a hundred times worse than Yuuri had felt, it would never be enough to make up for causing Yuuri so much mortal fear. Or to be afraid for Viktor's life.

Had Viktor died in that raid, who would have protected Yuuri? Who would have kept him safe, if not Viktor? A threat to a Captain’s life is a threat to the life of every soul aboard, including Yuuri’s. And no one on Earth, above it or below it, could take Viktor away from his Yuuri. Not again.

“The brand on your hand means nothing. A cur knows no respect, no honor.” Viktor spat, ripping the gaudy gold chain from around the enemy’s throat. “You harmed my crew. My friends. Threatened  _ my omega. _ ”

The man had the gall to spit between Viktor’s boots. 

“A dead man has no use for a tongue.” Viktor snarled, and he much preferred the mangled crimson mess of the man’s mouth after relieving him of his tongue.

While another man would have ended his suffering, Viktor had no such empathy. The man would take his last breaths alone, choking on his own sin and blood as it soaked into the dirt below him. Viktor savored the dull thud of the man’s own knife as it carved into the soft flesh of his stomach, the wet sound as he twisted the blade.

With the worst of it behind them, they made easy work of the remaining sailors aboard their docked vessel. Yuuri watched from their distant mooring place, through Viktor's spyglass, as the enemy's ship sank into the bay, engulfed by flame.

A few months ago, Yuuri might have been slightly queasy at the thought of what Viktor had meant by “make a statement of them”, but now the feeling of vengeance sat warm in his chest. Those men had threatened his Alpha, and they deserved everything Viktor gave them. He felt a tug of morbid pleasure, watching the ship ease slowly into the water, lighting the moonless night bright as midday. 

Yuuri all but threw himself into Viktor’s arms when he returned, a sixth hoop in his left ear. 

* * *

Their routine of spending every moment together would never see a change after that. In addition to their shared breakfasts, Yuuri found himself reluctant to leave the great cabin, and had soon spent more nights in Viktor’s bed than he had in the hammock down below. Between his shifts in the galley with Cookie, sailing lessons in the afternoons from both the Captain and first mate, Yuuri spent his time basking in the warm sunlight of the Captain’s quarters, often reading one of the myriad of books from Viktor’s library.

On a warm, lazy summer afternoon, Yuuri was reading a well-worn anthology of Northern language poetry while Viktor worked on trajectories and routes, his pen dancing across parchment in his lovely, looping hand. The delicate scratching sound of his pen sent chills down Yuuri's spine, pulling goosebumps from his skin in a delicious way. His favorite spot on the davenport was warm with the heat of his body, the delicious mingling scents of the two of them filling his nose.

He was wearing those delicate spectacles on the end of his nose; Viktor's glasses betrayed the capital-a Alpha persona that he wore like armor around everyone, save for the trusted few. Viktor had to hold things at an arm’s length to read properly without the assistance his spectacles provided. Yuuri was in on the secret; he rather liked seeing Viktor wear his glasses.

Viktor had been working for a long while when he stood up from his chair and pulled down his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he joined Yuuri on the couch. With a soft sigh he pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s lips, cupping his cheek with one hand.

“Hello, beautiful. Working hard to learn the tongue, are you?” Viktor asked quietly, nosing at his throat. Yuuri smiled and obliged him, gladly soaking up the tender scenting from his alpha. 

_ His alpha. _ How long had he been calling Viktor that, in the quiet of his mind? Perhaps since seeing the two of them in the mirror together— seeing the way Viktor had looked at him, lips wrapped around his skin so gently, so hungrily. Maybe it was the lengths Viktor had gone to in protecting him, in taking revenge for the raid, in killing Cao Bin when he had threatened harm.

“I am,” Yuuri answered, the sight of Viktor’s soft smile, those pale freckles on his cheeks. “It’s difficult, but the words are lovely.”

“I find present company much more lovely than ink on paper, frankly.” Viktor smiled slightly at the admission, his eyes crinkling up in the breathtaking way Yuuri loved. That smile, full of such unabashed sweetness. It warmed Yuuri’s heart, a happy purr resonated in his throat at the compliment and at the sight of Viktor so pleased. 

Viktor crooned at the reaction and pulled Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri squealed at the shift, but settled quickly resting against Viktor’s chest, his silver hair fanning out below them like melted starlight. 

“Do you really think so?” Yuuri asked quietly, looking down from his perch on Viktor's chest. 

"Of course I do, Yuuri." 

Yuuri fell silent, admiring Viktor’s features, exploring the fine lines between his brows and bracketing his mouth. The man lying below him had never looked less like a feared pirate captain than now; his features soft and placid as still water. How different he had looked through that spyglass, his visage warped with anger and vengeance. How different he looked when Yuuri watched them shove off, for the first time above deck. Viktor appeared stern, hardened by the sea and time as he stood on the quarterdeck, watching with pride as his sailors unfurled the  _ Stammi _ ’s sails, pulled her anchor from the sandy ocean floor.

Yuuri’s cheeks reddened and he buried his face in Viktor’s chest, his mind hopelessly tossed between the soft vision below and the memory of his Captain, bellowing commands, demanding the respect his rank deserved. 

Viktor was beautiful, even in those moments of cold, calculated violence; his hair still glowed in the moonlight, his jaw still curved in that impossibly attractive way. His eyes flashed in a way that made Yuuri’s heart stop, seeing the hunger behind them, the unadulterated Alpha that Viktor usually held back.

The two felt irreconcilable, the man who sank ships and the man enjoying the respite of afternoon sunshine with Yuuri now. Viktor’s long, gossamer eyelashes fanned across his cheeks as his eyes closed, a long, low breath brushed over Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri could smell the tobacco on his breath and found it soothing more than anything, coming to rest with his head on Viktor’s chest.

Viktor was a sculpted vision, every line of him chiseled by the gods in marble, every brush stroke painted by master. Undeniably, completely, sinfully, devastatingly handsome, and yet he had chosen to hold Yuuri close, to protect him, to kill in retribution for a threat. Yuuri would never be so unquestionably attractive as him, who felt like the paragon of beauty. Yuuri was… just Yuuri. Plain, ha-penny a dozen. 

And yet. 

His heart beat slow and steady, and Yuuri felt himself being lulled into stillness by it, more than content to remain there, resting in the sunshine with his Viktor. Yuuri had struggled to find a foothold as things shifted around him so quickly… but here, with Viktor safe aboard the  _ Stammi _ , Yuuri felt he could breathe for the first time in a while. 

The past weeks had certainly shaken him, made a mess of their plans, and shown Yuuri the side of his Captain that would have terrified him before. But with time came strength, came respect, came admiration for Viktor… and the curiosity of what had happened before Yuuri knew him only grew by the day. What Cookie had told him all those months ago hardly sated that curiosity, that hunger to know more. 

Viktor stirred below him, a soft groan rustling the stray hairs that had fallen loose from Yuuri’s top knot. Yuuri allowed himself to be moved, the two of them quickly finding a new position curled on the couch together, lying on their sides, nested into one another like perfectly matching halves. 

“Comfortable?” Viktor whispered, running a gentle hand through Yuuri’s hair. 

“Very.” Yuuri answered and pulled himself in closer, breathing in Viktor’s scent from the source. It was muted now, softer than it had been. Like moss after a summer rainstorm, earthy and verdant.

Viktor crooned softly and Yuuri replied with a purr of his own, enjoying the scent of Viktor’s contentedness. He was warm and safe, and Yuuri took joy in it. Something deep in his omega felt secure here, perfectly serene and protected by Alpha. 

“What is it, Yuuri?” Viktor asked in a whisper, laughing quietly when Yuuri squeaked at the question. “Don’t act so surprised, you’ve never sounded so happy.”

Yuuri flushed. “I suppose you’ve been keeping track?” he deflected, wondering how exactly Viktor could have known to mind such a thing… how long had he been paying him such attention?

“Of course I have.” Viktor answered with confidence. “That’s one of my most important roles as Alpha, isn’t it? To mind one’s omega.”

Were it possible for Yuuri’s cheeks to burst into flame, they would have. “ _ Your _ omega?” He replied, mostly shocked at the assumption, but a deeper part of him savored it. 

Viktor smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “As long as I am allowed to call you such a thing, yes.” A small giggle rippled to life in Yuuri’s chest without his permission, bubbling out of his mouth unexpectedly. 

“You’re impossible,” Yuuri laughed, wiping away a small tear as it beaded up in the corner of his eye. “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” Viktor asked, barely containing a laugh himself. “What do you mean?”

“This!” Yuuri’s laugh grew, sitting up and away from Viktor. “You ask me if you’re allowed to call me things, you ask me if I’m comfortable. Just last night you were fighting  _ real people _ . I’m sure you didn’t leave them alive. And yet here you are, holding me, teasing me and cherishing me like… like you aren’t the infamous Captain you are.”

Viktor laughed, a strong, full-bodied belly laugh. 

“Can a man not be both?” he asked, and Yuuri hesitated to answer. How could this soft, silly man be the merciless killer he had seen just the night before? “Can a man not be both an infamous Captain and a horribly soft lover?”

Yuuri laughed and rolled his eyes, curling in deeper to Viktor’s warmth. “I suppose you can,” he breathed against Viktor’s collarbone, savoring the scent of him there. “My infamous Captain. My horribly soft lover.”

Viktor preened with the praise, a shiver running down his spine strong enough that Yuuri felt him shake. “I love when you say that.” 

“Say what?” Yuuri asked, a smile threatening to make his cheeks sore.

“When you call me  _ yours _ .” Viktor shuddered again, and Yuuri purred at the reaction he pulled from his alpha. “I’ve never been prouder to hold a title than this, love.”

Yuuri sank into the thoughts so readily, so willingly, it felt like coming home after a long voyage, falling into a lover’s arms again after a long winter. The doubt crept in slowly like the crawling tide, slowly, then all at once— it had been a threat for months, lurking in the dark of his periphery. The vague, wooly memories of his heat ending in disaster… because of what his body had done. Or rather, what it hadn’t done. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor breathed against his shoulder, his breath dancing over his throat in a way that only tempted tears. “Yuuri, love.” It was the earnest tone of Viktor’s voice that most wrenched Yuuri’s stomach, sending him toppling over into tears. 

Viktor gathered him into his arms and Yuuri felt ill, his chest aching with every pulse of his heartbeat.

What had he done to deserve anything more than drunk propositions, arranged pairings? He could justify other men’s witless pursuits, not knowing the wretched depths of Yuuri’s pain, of his bodily failure to produce heirs. They were desperate men, aching for the affection they had left at home— they thought Yuuri could fill a void of some sort. But they had been deluded. The other men to proposition him had only been lying, or too drunk, or desperate for the affection of an omega.

Yuuri had to push away the advances of others out of fear. Fear of… of what exactly? Of another loved one left disappointed, of falling prey to an alpha's rage again, of one more man reducing him to his body's ability to bear children, his memory recalled for him, choking him with the smoky scent of a man who took so much from him.

But what of Viktor? What did Viktor know that others didn’t, that he was willing to stay, to court him, even? Yuuri swallowed thickly at the thought of what Viktor had said the night of the raid. That he loved him. 

How could Viktor love him?

“Yuuri.” Viktor breathed again, fear creaking his voice like a loose nail in the foremast. “Yuuri, please, tell me what has made you so shaken?”

Yuuri sighed wetly, forcing down the sour taste in his mouth. 

“I… I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”  _ Like Hisashi. _ “Or that you’ll tire of me.”  _ Like the rest. _ “Because I…” He couldn't bear the heated stare, the warm, endless depth of Viktor’s ocean eyes. He dropped his chin to his chest, breaking the spell those eyes cast. "Because I won't give you children."

“Yuuri.” Viktor curled a hand around his jaw gently, a careful thumb stroking the softness of his cheek, savoring the peach-fine hair there. “I would  _ never _ . I will never tire of you.”

Bitter tears rolled down Yuuri's cheeks at the memories as they swelled up again. All he had wanted Hisashi to do was to give him a bond, to give him the emotional grounding he had craved for years, ever since presenting. 

“Yuuri, do you remember seeing yourself in the looking glass?” Viktor asked, his eyes earnest and burning. “You saw someone that you didn’t recognize. Correct?” Another nod. “That Yuuri, his smile, his joy, his appetite for adventure and life… that is the Yuuri I fell in love with. The Yuuri I fell in love with smiles, teases me, and laughs with the gentle ring of a bell.” Viktor gestured in the direction of the privy, the mirror, “But I fear that my Yuuri can’t see past his own scars and bruises.”

“And you can?” Yuuri heard himself crying, his voice cracking with the weight of it. “You can see past all of this?” He gestured at his face and body, hands hovering for a moment over his stomach, the body that cursed him with heats but never bore children. The body meant for childbearing but failed to deliver on its only purpose, a world that spurned him for an empty womb. “I’m broken and worthless as an omega, why do you insist on treating me otherwise?”

He watched as the gears slowly turned in Viktor's mind, blue eyes softening with tears of his own as he understood.

“Yes. I can look past this scar,” Viktor traced the pink line on his chin, “and this one,” a long, jagged line on his forearm, “But this. Right here.” Viktor laid a warm hand on his stomach, releasing a thick cloud of his protective scent. “This is not a scar. Your body is not  _ broken _ . What kind of man, regardless of any dynamic, would I be if I reduced you to your body? What kind of a person would I be to expect that of you, to assume you would bear my children?”

Yuuri released the breath he had been holding, a weak, shaky thing that left his body in a sob. “I… I don't know. I've never known anything else." The tears came in streams, Yuuri could smell his own distress in the air. His shoulders shook, hands trembling at memories of life before the tavern, of the pain he endured when he was too young to have known an alpha's rejection, to be held hostage in a body valued for the pieces and parts within it, not the person inhabiting it. That voice filled his mind,  _ ‘worthless, stupid, broken’ _ in an endless refrain.

“Yuuri, look at me.” Viktor gently directed, swiping away at the tears running down his cheeks and carding his other hand through the soft ebony of his hair. Yuuri met his gaze again, his mouth pulled into a stubborn frown while Viktor's was soft and inviting, the doting nature of his alpha in full-force. “If not for you, I would be lost to the tides. It does  _ not  _ matter to me if your body doesn’t bear pups.” Viktor held his cheeks with both hands, swiping away tears as they began to fall afresh. “Your worth is not determined by what your body can do, or cannot do. That is not, and never will be why I love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sighed, a wet broken thing that caught in his throat. “Don’t lie to me.” He managed to rasp, and Viktor chased his words with a kiss. 

“I love you, Yuura. I’ll say it until my lungs give out. I couldn't leave that tavern without you, I couldn’t face another sunrise without you safe in my care. You take my breath away every time I see your sleeping face in my bed, you steal my heart every time you smile. You have sealed my fate in your hands with the way you say my name. I would cross oceans, traverse every sea, sail until this ship falls to pieces, to see you happy. To show you how deeply, how fully, how irrevocably I love you.”

Viktor opened his mouth to pour more poetry out into Yuuri’s ear, but quickly stopped when he saw the look on his love’s face, of slow, deliberate thought, the tears rolling down round cheeks slowing. Viktor crooned softly, a small smile dancing across his lips.

Yuuri’s heart hiccupped as the thoughts began to churn in his head. Viktor Nikiforov, pirate captain of the Stammi Vicino, who might have been an eligible bachelor of the highest pedigree if not for his penchant for piracy, was crooning Yuuri's praises like he was a god to be worshiped. This man, debonair and dashing, could surely have his choice of any omega chose him. Those words rang in Yuuri's ears, somehow echoing with different weight than all the times before. Yuuri blinked slowly, the tears finally drying. His mind filled with Viktor and his love, and cedar overpowered the smoky scent of the past in rushing waves, forcing it back into the darkness of his mind. Viktor's accent wrapped around his name called Yuuri back.

Yuuri blinked slowly, nodding. “I… I see. I understand.”

“Yuuri?” Viktor's voice pitched up upward into a gleeful pitch that Yuuri had never heard before, eyes widening to the size of saucers and his mouth stretching into that heart-shaped smile. “Do you finally see what I've seen this entire time?” Viktor’s enthusiasm drew a laugh from deep in Yuuri's chest, his lungs still aching from the tears; he felt his lips pulling back into a smile. Before he could blink, Viktor withdrew a hand mirror from the privy and pressed it into Yuuri’s hand. “This is the Yuuri I love the most. Look at your smile, love, the way your face looks, painted with happiness instead of pain. This… this is how you're beautiful to me.” Viktor crooned into Yuuri's hair, nosing gently at his collared scent gland.

When Yuuri turned around, he saw himself reflected in Viktor’s irises, and for the first time, didn't want to look away. Viktor held him there for what felt like eons, wrapped in his arms and transfixed by Yuuri’s visage, his eyes adoring, worshipful. Yuuri shifted in the cradle of his arms and kissed at the hollow of Viktor’s throat and savored the reaction, a rumbling sigh vibrating against his flesh.

“Thank you, Viktor.” He whispered, purring and drowning in Viktor’s scent.

“Anything for you, my Yuuri.” Viktor returned, nuzzling softly into his hair. Azure eyes glittered with affection, the kind that felt  _ familiar _ . Like something he had seen in a dream. No, during that heat. He had seen those eyes with that tenderness before. Before he had even begun to trust Viktor. He had been waiting all this time, perhaps even longer. 

“My Viktor.” Yuuri sank into Viktor’s warmth as they sat together, arms wrapped loosely around Viktor’s broad shoulders. He was unsure how long they remained there, entangled in each other, but Yuuri soon felt his cheeks aching with the smile that hadn’t left his face.

The new revelation didn’t ease the pain of the past, at least, not yet. Soon. But it felt right, rolling off his tongue. It sounded right. He believed it. Viktor rumbled at him with a warm smile, chest swelling with pride at being called Yuuri's anything; he laid a line of teasing kisses at Yuuri’s jaw, drinking in the sweet sounds of his laughter. Viktor pulled away and beamed up at his Yuuri, seeing his face so lit up with happiness.

“I love you, Yuuri.” Viktor breathed softly, his voice gentle enough to keep a candle lit. The blue irises matching the crystalline blue waters of the sea below them. Yuuri absently spun Viktor's ring around his finger, again leaving his words unsaid. He prayed it was tangible in soft glances, warm smiles and unspoken words, in the way he'd pressed a palm to his chest. No matter how deeply he shared the sentiment, he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked in a small voice, those warm, earthy eyes blinking wide up at him.

“Hmm? What is it, precious?” Viktor matched Yuuri’s tone, quiet and soft. 

“I like listening to you talk.” Yuuri admitted, his cheeks pink and warm with it. “When you talk to the crew, when you talk to me… all of it.”

A low rumble vibrated in Viktor’s chest. “Is that so?” Viktor asked, the tiniest hint of arousal creeping into his voice. Yuuri flushed and nodded, burying himself deeper into Viktor’s chest. “Is it the accent that you enjoy? The tone?”

Yuuri’s heart fluttered in his chest and he nodded again. “All of it. Everything.” Yuuri whispered, the admission only compounding the want growing in his core. “It’s. Because it’s you.”

“Oh…” Viktor breathed, a warm wave of Yuuri’s aroused scent washing over him, filling his nose. “Does my Yuuri have a fondness for my voice?”

Viktor’s warm baritone washed over Yuuri in waves, warm and thick like honey. He fought against the urge to be ashamed of the way his voice affected him, the fine hair lifting on his arms and lightning darting down the length of his spine.

“I, yes, I do,” Yuuri managed, flushing as Viktor chuckled in his ear. “Gods, it’s… you’re, please, keep talking?” he asked, feeling himself growing wet between his thighs. 

Viktor huffed another laugh in Yuuri’s ear, pulling him closer and loosening the ties of his tunic, letting it fall open to reveal his chest. “I love all of these marks, Yuuri. Every little freckle and mole.” Viktor crooned as his lips met Yuuri’s heated skin, the wet, gentle press of his mouth against him had Yuuri shivering already. “Do you know what they say about freckles, love?”

Yuuri could barely bring himself to answer, simply shaking his head instead. 

“It is said that your body is marked by your past lives.” Viktor dipped down to kiss a small grouping of freckles below Yuuri’s collarbone, eliciting a shuddering moan from Yuuri’s lips. “Every mole marks you with love and passion… every freckle is left where your past lives' lovers spent the most time kissing.”

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri moaned, his eyes rolled back toward the sky as Viktor traveled upward, kissing along his throat and the sensitive spot below his ear. “Where… where will your marks appear, Viktor?”

Viktor’s lips slid open against his chest, a long moan rumbling into his skin. “In your next life, all of you will be covered, head to toe.” Viktor breathed against Yuuri’s flesh. “I want to worship every stretch of you. I want to taste every last bit of you, Yuuri.”

Another small moan escaped Yuuri’s lips as Viktor’s dark timbre rumbled in his ear. Hot breath tickled the sensitive skin there. Yuuri’s pleasure was evident in the air, scent releasing with the warmth and arousal sitting in his core.

“Your shoulders, your hands,” Viktor pulled one of Yuuri’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles, the joints of his wrists, the scent gland below his skin. “The places where your scent is thickest, the places you smell most like Yuuri. You’re perfect. Every part of you.”

Viktor's words slowed, his momentary breaks to breathe shifting to swallowed moans against Yuuri's flesh. Yuuri felt it then, Viktor's length straining against his hip, Viktor’s chest began to heave with the effort of scenting him, like waves swelling and receding on the shore.

“Viktor, I—” Yuuri barely withheld his shaky whimper.

“I will gladly praise you, if that is what you desire.” Viktor whispered against Yuuri's collared scent gland, his pulse rabitting in his throat as his arousal pitched higher and higher.

“Viktor,” Yuuri asked, his accent thick with arousal. “Viktor?”

“Yes, Yuuri?” Just the way he said his name made Yuuri squirm. The elongated 'u’ resonating in his throat like a growl. “What is it, love?”

A warm throb of arousal had Yuuri squirming under Viktor’s touch, his breath coming shorter and hotter as Viktor’s cock nudged at his own. Yuuri slowly uncurled the stems of his spectacles from behind the alpha's ears, sliding them off his nose and laying them flat on the table beside their bed. 

“Make love to me.” 

Viktor didn’t attempt verbal confirmation, opting to instead push him deeper into the bed instead. Yuuri gasped when Viktor’s thighs slipped between his, those blue eyes dark and lidded… hungry. 

Viktor always adored his Yuuri, but especially how he looked laid out on his back: cheeks flushed, lips bitten red, hair tousled, tossed across the white sheets of their bed like ink spilled on a page. Both of them were undressed and tangled up in each other before they had really registered they had moved at all. Yuuri’s cock, hard and dripping pearly precome, was too much of a temptation for Viktor to refuse; he leaned down and lapped at it like a dying man drinking, desperately and fervently. 

Mewling moans and gentle cries filled the room, mixing with Yuuri’s intoxicating scent tinged with sex. Yuuri’s hole wasn’t weeping slick like it did during his heat, so Viktor retrieved the bottle of oil from the privy before continuing further. He would have to take care in preparing, unlike the hazy three days they spent together tangled up in pheromones.

Viktor poured a generous amount of the oil into his hand, warming it with the heat of his skin before pressing in. Yuuri gasped at the shift, cursing his biology, unwilling to make as much of his natural lubricant as he’d prefer, but he’d be damned if he denied loving the slow, methodical way Viktor worked him open. The alpha gently stretched the muscles, coaxing them into relaxation. Yuuri’s soft, shaky moans were music to Viktor’s ears; he could draft entire anthologies of poetry with the music Yuuri made under his touch.

“Viktor, Alpha, _yes, yes_ _there_!” Yuuri cried when Viktor added another finger, dancing over that spot inside him, kicking up his moans into an entirely new register.

Yuuri was falling apart in delirious, blistering heat, scrambling to keep one thought connected to the other. Viktor lined up and slowly sank into that wet heat, growling possessively. When he was fully seated, he leaned down to cradle the omega’s soft cheek. A work-weathered thumb caressed Yuuri’s blushed flesh, and he nuzzled into Viktor’s palm with a purr. Viktor set his pace, languid and slow. He wanted to last.

The deep, slow glide of Viktor inside him drew needy, desperate gasps from Yuuri, the delicious friction pulling tears to his eyes. He heard himself panting Viktor's name, and moaning 'Alpha’, as his thoughts began to grow louder in concert with the arousal coiling behind his navel. From Yuuri's messy tangle of thoughts swirling in his mind came only one coherent concept.

“Viktor… I love you.  _ I love you. Oh gods, Viktor. I love you.” _ Yuuri whispered, the words quickly morphing from the Common Tongue into his first language. Viktor gasped with the words, a sound so high-pitched it sounded like a whine. He began pistoning his hips, quickly realizing that he wouldn’t be lasting long; with Yuuri’s words washing over him, his touch so desperately clinging to him, Viktor’s throaty moans joined Yuuri’s.

“I love you too, Yuuri. Love you so much, Yuuri, you’re beautiful, perfect, my lovely Yuura.” His hips slapped wetly against Yuuri’s, a chorus of sounds only bringing Viktor’s edge quicker. Viktor’s mother tongue slipped out as well, spilling messily from his mouth into the crook of Yuuri’s throat as he came, muffling a bone-deep moan in his skin. Yuuri’s release came then too, painting his stomach and heaving chest with pearly come.

Viktor would never tire of seeing Yuuri wholly blissed out, debauched and chest heaving. Yuuri reached a shaking arm up to Viktor’s cheek,who captured it and laid a kiss between his first and second fingers, just like that first night. A languid moan came from deep in Yuuri’s chest, shifting into a peal of exhausted laughter. Viktor collapsed into bed, cock easily sliding out of him.

“You’ll be the death of me, you know.” Yuuri croaked, shivering at the loss.

“Mmmm, and we shall die together in bliss, my Yuura.” Viktor moaned tiredly, rolling onto his side and stealing a kiss from Yuuri’s lips.

“Why do you call me that?” Yuuri asked, his mind still hazy, foggy with the afterglow. “Yuura?”

“Oh, I- it’s what my people call a diminutive. A petname of sorts. It’s… something lovers do. Something  _ mates  _ do.” Viktor flushed bright red at that. He had let the name slip out, not thinking of the implications. Would Yuuri even want to tie himself to him in that way? To be claimed as a mate? He swallowed thickly, not looking up from his lap.

“I... I like that. What should I call you?” Viktor’s heart skipped a beat at Yuuri's sweet voice. He sat bolt upright, the cabin suddenly becoming too hot.

“Vitya, if you’d like. I’d just ask that you only use it in private. It carries a bit of a… personal meaning.” Viktor’s eyes fell, hoping that Yuuri would understand. Yuuri’s hand danced down the length of his spine, careful touch tracing the flexed muscle of his shoulders and back.

“Does that mean you want me to be your mate?” Yuuri asked gently, as if he were afraid of the answer. Slowly, painfully slowly, Viktor turned to meet Yuuri's gaze, his eyes wide and moony.

“Yes, love,” Viktor breathed in a rush, a burst of warm scent filling Yuuri’s nose. “I would very much like to take you as my mate. If you’ll be mine, that is.” Yuuri flashed him a smile brighter than the sun.

“I love you, Vitya. So much.” Viktor’s heart flipped four times over when he heard Yuuri’s accent roll over the diminutive, those words. “I will gladly be yours, Vitya.” Yuuri's voice strained with tears, his heart overflowing. Viktor pulled Yuuri into a tight embrace, wrapped in the shared heat of each other's flesh.

“I'm so happy, Yuura. Thank you.” Viktor murmured into Yuuri's hair. The two stayed there, tangled together in a mess of warmth and scent; cedar and cherry rolled over one another and twined together in the tiny gaps of air between their skin. Viktor was perfectly content to stay there forever, listening to the rhythmic breathing of his  _ mate _ , twisting long strands of raven hair between his fingertips.

Yuuri hesitated before speaking softly, “I don't know if I'm ready to bond yet.” His voice shook with the confession. He still had so much to learn about his new mate's past, and so much to share about his own. 

Viktor was silent for what felt like hours. His heart rate had picked up, breathing became erratic, panicked. “Vitya? Is everything alright?” Yuuri questioned cautiously, releasing his calming scent into the soft blankets around them.

“Yes, love, I'm alright. I'm… I'm not ready for that yet either.” His voice was hoarse, rattling in his chest. “We have a lot of learning to do, don't we?”

“We do.” Yuuri nodded, knowing the difficult waters ahead of them. “Before we commit to something so permanent,” Yuuri curled in closer to Viktor’s chest, holding his face in his hands. “I want both of us to lay it all bare. To keep no more secrets. I hate to know that hurt and pain lies in your heart, Vitya. I think it’s time we talk about the past.”

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat. “I… Yuuri, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“Both yours and mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! next week... talking happens *eyes emoji intensifies*


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this portion we'll be talking about Yuuri's struggles with his secondary dynamic and finding his worth beyond society's expectations for omegas. There are discussions of Yuuri's emotional and physical abuse in this chapter. For any original readers, all mentions of rape and miscarriage are gone.

Both of them had been dreading it; reliving the worst parts of their lives in solitude and in nightmares was bad enough. How much worse would it be to share them with each other? Their fledgling relationship had only just begun to grow, and they both feared the darkness lurking in their pasts would tear it all down and light the rubble aflame.

But there they were, seated in what they had decided was their cabin, (a fact that Chris was both exceedingly happy of and slightly annoyed by, that he had lost his bed only to be abandoned below deck) at opposite sides of Viktor’s table, an orange and pink sky framing the rising sun in the East. Nervous fidgeting plagued both of them, Viktor with gnawing at his fingernails and Yuuri twisting his hair between his fingers. Yuuri’s panic began to rise in pitch. Their usual morning coffee didn’t help the situation at all, it just made him jittery on top of the panic already heavy on his chest.

“Yuura? Are you ready?” Viktor asked gently, his rumbling timbre almost soothing. In any other situation but this, it might have calmed Yuuri's uneasy mind, but not that morning.

“As I’ll ever be.” Yuuri replied, his stomach twisted in a painful tangle of nerves and worry. He was shaking, and Viktor had surely noticed as much.

“Do you want to start, love? Or should I?” Viktor offered, his smile looking artificial and tired.

“What about age before beauty?” Yuuri joked, trying to calm his fraying nerves.

“Oh,” Viktor gasped, clutching his chest in that dramatic way. “You wound me, darling. I’m only twenty-seven.”

“And I’m the twenty-one year old tavern boy you bought for the price of a good pair of boots, Vitya.” Yuuri snapped back, sharp as a whip. Viktor would admit that had hurt more than he thought it would, but the levity was much appreciated in the moment.

“And now you’ve wounded me again. But at least rest in the confidence that I did it mostly because you were too beautiful to leave behind. I couldn’t bear to leave without you and return in a few months to find you tied down and round with another alpha's…” Viktor trailed off, catching the wince of pain in Yuuri's eyes. 

“Yuura, I’m sorry—” Viktor’s tongue tied itself in knots, Yuuri’s warm, amber eyes looked wet and exhausted, almost empty. 

“I know,” Yuuri sighed heavily, the weight of oceans pushing on his shoulders. Viktor swallowed the painful lump in his throat, his mouth dry and threatening to become drier by the minute. “Would you like me to go first, Vitya?” Yuuri asked, his eyes softened, but no less heavy. 

“Would you? Please?” Viktor pleaded, knowing full well that the jumble of thoughts and memories lurking in his head were anything but easy to explain.

“Alright, love. Where to start…” Yuuri’s voice faltered as he allowed the painful memories to resurface. Viktor reached across the table and took his hand, running his thumb over the ridges of Yuuri’s knuckles.

“I’ve heard that the beginning is the best place to start.” Viktor offered, and they both chuckled lightly. The tiny shift in atmosphere was exactly what he had needed. He laced his fingers with the alpha, gripping gently. Yuuri forced a sharp exhale through his nose, the rush of breath like steel striking flint to light a fire.

“The beginning, then.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri's hand a bit tighter, forcing himself to keep his protective instincts at bay. “I had a good childhood. I was raised well, my family was wonderful. The inn was slow, and we struggled to make ends meet, but they kept my sister and me fed.”

“Mari, yes?” Viktor asked, half-remembering the story Yuuri had told him so long ago.

Yuuri nodded, smiling fondly. “Yes, Mari.”

“I’d like to meet her someday, if I can.” Viktor said, “If you want to.” He quickly corrected when Yuuri’s smile faded gently. Yuuri waved off his attempts to apologize, promising him he hadn’t made as grave a mistake as he thought.

“We got by fine enough, I enjoyed working for the inn and it saved my parents the money of hiring staff. I met lots of interesting people, but business began to slow as we grew. I was fifteen when Mari married her mate. I begged her not to leave… it was a bit childish of me.” Yuuri choked a bit at the memory. 

“I presented as an omega that summer, and I had my first heat locked in my room at the inn. I was the only one of the four of us to be anything other than a beta, and I was the only living omega in our village. My parents were kind about it, but they didn't know how to help… they had never helped raise an omega. One hadn’t been born in a generation.”

With the benefit of retrospect, Yuuri was glad for everything his parents did to protect him in those early years. They kept him close, kept him safe from overeager alphas. He had always enjoyed cooking, but he realized that it was then that his skills were honed, passions kindled with support from his mother. 

“I spent a lot of time in a heathouse in a neighboring town. They trained me in midwifery, how to care for other omegas in heat, I apprenticed with them.” Yuuri smiled softly, a warm flood of memories washed over him. The people there were wonderful, specifically Minako and Yuuko. “And every time my cycle came around, I stayed there. I slowly learned how to take care of myself. The betas that ran the house were kind, they offered very helpful advice for… well, for surviving my heats.” Viktor visibly winced, an apologetic look on his face. “It was worse when I was younger. They’re harder to ride out on your own.” 

“I’m glad I can help you now, Yuura.” Viktor offered, his voice much more even-toned than he thought he would have been able to muster. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Vitya, I know.” Yuuri nodded, curling around himself protectively, remembering 

“Word began to spread that we were struggling, funds had been running low for years. The inn had been suffering, and after Mari’s wedding, they were getting desperate. Papa began asking around if anyone knew an unmated alpha to match with me, someone who could care for me, someone kind, someone who wouldn’t hurt me. That was what they told me, what they promised me: a safe, warm home. A family built on love, not fear. A kind mate, pups…” His chin trembled, throat tightening around the words. He forced himself forward, the voices threatening to return. Viktor cast a wide swath of his scent over the two of them.

“Papa had a friend, a nice man I had met a few times. His son was a shepherd living in the lowlands, and needed a mate to help him.” Yuuri’s voice broke for a moment, the memory of Hisashi’s oppressive, smoky scent filling his lungs. “I didn’t learn until later just how severely I was needed.”

Viktor nodded, anything he could have said would have felt empty, meaningless, in comparison. He could comfort him, but what would he say? What could he offer?

“He wasted every ounce of our savings on drink and gambled the rest away.” Yuuri continued, his chest aching already. The worst of it was still to come. “He had a few friends visit every now and then… and the way they looked at me.”

Yuuri shuddered at the memory of it, serving a meager dinner to Hisashi and his friends, listening to the muted growls and hushed conversation through the walls… he regretted not running away that night. Hisashi’s jealousy was a dangerous thing; he could barely walk the following morning. 

Viktor gripped his hand tightly, pulling him back to the moment. “Would you pour me something to drink?” he asked, finding his throat uncomfortably dry. “Preferably of the non-fermented variety. I’ve been told respectable pirates only drink after noon.”

“Of course, I'll be right back.” Viktor laughed at the memory, followed by the blush of hearing Yuuri call himself a pirate. He glanced back at the omega, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Viktor had found a book on controlling the mind when they ported last month, and gave it to Yuuri in hope that it might aid his panic episodes. He had learned a lot of valuable tactics to keep the voices at bay. A smile pulled at Viktor's lips at the sight of Yuuri gaining control. He hated seeing how small the omega had looked, curled up against the wall of his cabin, hands pressed over his ears to block out the voices. But he was improving. Slowly, but steadily.

Viktor decanted some of the water from their private stores; on long voyages, clean water was often in short supply and high demand. Especially as they made for warmer waters and hotter climates. Yuuri gratefully took the tall glass, drinking a long pull.

“Are you alright? Do you want to stop?” Viktor asked gently, sensing the heaviness on Yuuri’s shoulders, the exhaustion thick in his scent… listening to his love’s story made him ache in the worst ways.

“No, I need to continue. This is the only way we can move forward. We need to bleed our pasts before we can heal.” Yuuri was saying that as much to himself as he was to Viktor, pushing his way through the haze of memory with brute force.

“Alright, love. Can you tell me what happened after you met him?” They clasped hands again, Viktor knowing that Yuuri needed his touch as an anchor, to keep him tied to the present instead of allowing the past to pull him under. Yuuri nodded, swallowing down his reservations once again.

“I had no idea what kind of man he was. All I knew was that meeting him, letting him scent me the first time, had my omega satisfied for the first time since I presented, but… god, I was terrified. Of Hisashi, of my own body, of disappointing my family. I didn’t understand most of it, but something in my gut told me it was right. We were married and mated the autumn that I turned eighteen and he was thirty-four.” Viktor audibly gasped. It wasn’t uncommon for rural marriages to involve young omegas, but eighteen... it soured Viktor’s stomach.

“My first heat with him was a nightmare. Even worse than the one we shared, Vitya. He was relentless. I was bruised and torn, I couldn’t walk for a week afterward. He doted on me hand and foot, and we both expected pups on the way, but they never came. I could feel that something wasn’t right and my omega was telling me the same. That it was empty, and that I had failed. He was my first, so everything was new and terrifying. He didn’t start hitting me until the second time I didn’t get pregnant.” Yuuri’s breakfast threatened to make a second appearance, acid burning at his throat. He gulped down another mouthful of water. He remembered the threat word for word, all those years later.

_ I swear on your own fucking grave, if you don’t give me pups this time, you won’t have another chance to try. _

Gooseflesh pimpled Yuuri’s skin, the words still so real in his mind. He spared Viktor that bit of the memory.

“Hisashi threatened to hurt me, to kill me. I wanted so badly to carry, to prove my worth, but my body just… wouldn’t. I still haven't found an explanation as to why.” Viktor nodded, having watched Yuuri spend hours poring over that text and others he had brought back for him from port. “I think it was the third cycle that he broke my leg. His rut hit him especially hard, that time lasted two days longer than my heat. I told him that he was hurting me, that I didn’t have enough slick, but he kept going.

“I tried to run… he was intensely displeased with that. He snapped it like a twig. It still hadn’t healed completely when the next cycle rolled around. He promised me he would use the oil I had found at market. It was just like natural slick, it was supposed to numb a bit of the pain. But he didn’t. He never did.”

Yuuri showed Viktor the faded scars on his arms, the faint line on his chin where a shattered bottle had sliced his skin to the bone. A lump under the flesh of his right forearm, where a broken bone had refused to heal correctly. Viktor kissed each mark, horrified that the scars that Yuuri had been so preoccupied by in the mirror... had been from his  _ husband’s  _ hands. Yuuri's tears had dried, now replaced by a cold anger.

“Things felt different after that fourth cycle. I thought I had done it, that I had finally gotten pregnant. I  _ swore _ it was different that time. Hisashi told me we could finally bond after the pup was born. I thought I might be able to survive…” He choked on a sob, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He could still feel the blackness, the empty throb of it. Between ragged breaths, he shared the worst memory of them all. The morning he woke with searing pain in his abdomen, between his legs. “I woke up and he was standing over me, this awful grimace on his face. He said he couldn’t smell a pup in my scent. He accused me of lying, of forcing him to bond with me.” Another gasp escaped from Viktor’s mouth, lost in Yuuri’s own messy breaths. “I thought he was going to kill me. I made my peace with the gods but he di-didn't... he just threw my things into my trunk and told me to get out.”

Yuuri remembered every moment of that morning, of the cruel words Hisashi slung at him. How easy had it been to take all of it as gospel? To accept it all as truth, that he was worthless, nothing but a waste of space to be a womb without a child? He had barely felt human that morning, nothing better than a rejected sow, infertile and a waste of breath.

Phantom pains began to wrack his core, his body reacting to the painful memory viscerally. It sucked the breath from his chest in pained sobs, ugly and ragged and awful. He could only just make out the sound of his mate's voice through the fog, the comforting warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“You're okay, you're okay. I'm here, love. I'm here. He can't hurt you anymore. I swear it to you, Yuura. I'll kill him. I will.” Viktor promised, teeth bared and positively seething. He was already plotting the hundred ways he would make the man suffer a hundred deaths at his hand. “I'm sorry, Yuura. I'm so sorry.” Viktor’s chest ached with the urge to apologize for more, that he hadn’t been able to save him. Instead he wallowed in that ache, in the shaking of Yuuri’s shoulders and the slow, roiling anger building in his gut for the man that had done so much to his love.

When the tremors eventually subsided, Yuuri came back to himself wrapped in Viktor's arms. He felt as if he had been wrung dry, scoured clean like a grimy pot, a soot-covered kettle. “Thank you, Vitya.” He rasped, his throat raw with tears.

Viktor said nothing, simply held him closer and pushed out wave after wave of his scent. It was a comfort, to be surrounded by that deepest essence of his mate as he did this. The comfort that Viktor hadn’t left him, that he hadn’t run was immeasurable.

"I wanted to go home, I wanted to tell my family what had happened.” Yuuri felt his chest heaving with the effort of it, the regret weighing heavy as the Stammi’s anchor. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t face them again. I couldn’t tell them that they had sold the inn for nothing.” Tears spilled freely then, and Viktor’s expression was the awful combination of pity and pain— Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed on. “I stayed at that heat house for a night, I didn’t tell anyone why I was there. I spent every ounce of gold I had left to pay for passage on a wagon. I begged for what I couldn’t pay, sold what I didn’t need. I found my way to The Gilded Hull. And that’s where I met you.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, tears carving a path down his alabaster cheeks.

“I know, I know. It’s terrible. I’m sorry if you wanted me to have your pups. I think it’s more than just the one cycle we shared. I don’t think my body is able to carry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vitya.” Yuuri's shoulders shook with the confession.

“Love, look at me.” He tipped Yuuri’s chin up gently to meet his gaze. “If I only wanted you for what your body can do, you’d still be sleeping down below. If I only wanted pups from you, I would have dropped you off at port when you didn’t conceive months ago. All of that,” Viktor cupped Yuuri’s cheeks in his hands, “will never be the reason I chose you. Your face may have been the reason you caught my eye. But as soon as I saw you for all you are, every bit of you, I knew I’d never be able to look away.” 

Yuuri threw his chair back and ran to the alpha seated across the table. Viktor wrapped his arms tightly around him, dotting kisses around his temples and cheekbones.

“Thank you for laying yourself bare for me, love. I’m so sorry for the things I’ve said and done that have reminded you of your losses. I ache to know that I might have done you harm. But I swear on the boards of this ship that I will do all I can to keep you safe, to be your harbor.” Viktor murmured quietly into Yuuri's flesh. Fresh tears fell from Yuuri's cheeks as he nodded.

“I miss them. I wish I had gone home.” Yuuri croaked, his voice broken and tired. Viktor nodded and pulled Yuuri closer yet, gently rubbing circles and dancing patterns into his flesh, whispering soft, comforting words in his first language as Yuuri cried.

Plans formed and ideas took shape in Viktor’s mind as he held him, thoughts of a sabbatical, of taking Yuuri ashore and finding his family again… all of it felt as urgent as the rising sun. He tucked the thoughts away for a later day as Yuuri’s sobs began to quiet. The slowed, hiccupped breathing like the first burst of sunshine after a thunderstorm.

“Were you saying  _ ‘I love you’ _ ?” Yuuri asked when he regained control of his voice.

“I was,” Viktor answered, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been learning quickly.” he kissed Yuuri gently on the cheek and listened to the soft, exhausted sigh that fell from his love’s lips. “I should be careful, I say too many sinful things in bed for you to know what I’m saying.”

“Sinful things?” Yuuri repeated, digging into his memory for the words Viktor breathed in the heat of the moment, the gasping, slurred expletives that made him flush. He whispered one of them softly, biting his lip in the imitation of arousal— Viktor looked like he had seen a ghost. He swore under his breath and breathed slowly, attempting to contain any inappropriate reaction… but the way Yuuri’s accent curled around the harsh edges of the word, softening it to warm caramel, like the color of his eyes… it was nearly too much. 

“Vitya, I wanted to tell you something else too, if you don’t mind?” Yuuri said quietly, still curled into the warmth of his chest.

“Of course, darling. What is it?” Viktor replied, playing with his hair gently.

“After the heat we shared… when I panicked, when I left. I want to explain myself.” He shut his eyes tightly, forcing his breaths, his heart rate, to slow. Viktor’s grip tightened around him. He had been waiting for this. He kissed Yuuri’s forehead and waited.

“When my heat was still waning, when I was coming out of it… I don’t know why, but it wasn’t you holding me, talking to me. It was him. It was Hisashi. And I got scared. I panicked. I thought he had found me again.” His voice was miraculously clear, calm. It was as if opening his past to Viktor had soothed the ache, the worry. “The memories were too great, the fear felt so real… so tangible. So I panicked. I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to tell you sooner.” 

“Yuura… please don’t apologize,” Viktor crooned softly, pulling him in closer and carding his hand through Yuuri’s hair. “Thank you for sharing that with me, love. I'm so glad to know it wasn't  _ me _ that scared you.” He kissed Yuuri's hairline tenderly, feeling every ounce of tension bleed from his features. 

“It wasn’t you, Vitya. You were the perfect gentleman, from what I remember.” Yuuri purred in reply and received a soft, rumbly growl in reply paired with a heady wave of scent.

“I am quite serious about killing that bastard, just so you know.” Viktor whispered into Yuuri’s hairline, colored dark with intent— Yuuri knew, deep in his stomach, that Viktor meant it. “I’m going to find him and kill him a thousand times.” 

There was something oddly comforting in the strength of Viktor’s conviction. Not unlike the raid at Evalta, Yuuri felt protected in the most physical way. His mate swearing revenge on those who hurt him had become a warm, carnal comfort. Yuuri gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

“My mate, plotting revenge? Oh my, how did I not see this coming?” Yuuri fanned himself, a perfect imitation of the upper-class types, the ones who denounced their lifestyle while clutching their pearls.

“That I am, darling. And I am not ashamed! I do this for love!” Viktor called with a grand flourish, thrusting an imaginary sword into an imaginary man over Yuuri's shoulder. The two devolved into laughter, breaking the melancholy of the morning; rudely interrupted by the very loud, very impolite growling of Viktor’s stomach. They had been talking most of the morning, it must have been past midday at that point.

“Let’s go make some lunch, love. I think I need to stretch my legs anyway.” Yuuri said, standing and reaching his arms up over his head. His shirt lifted above his hipbones, divulging the softness of his lower belly. Viktor stole the opportunity and laid a wet kiss on the soft skin below Yuuri’s navel, eliciting a moan from his love before he could swallow it.

“ _ Vitya _ ,” Yuuri warned, barely swallowing down a whined moan, “Not now, please?”

“But the  _ noises  _ you make are so scintillating, love. How can you expect me to restrain myself when you tempt me so cruelly?”

“I expect you to restrain yourself when I specifically ask you to. Such an impatient knothead, my mate is.” Yuuri teased, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s chin as his mouth dropped open. “Now let’s go eat, I’m starving.” 

“I didn’t know my mate was so cruel.” Viktor blanched at the insult. “I’m not a knothead.”

“Then prove it. Put your dick away and come make some lunch with me.” There was no changing Yuuri’s decision when food was on his mind. Yuuri willed his erection to flag, as Viktor merely adjusted the length of his cock to be less  _ obscenely  _ visible. Incredible for a man who took such care and propriety in polite company… although Yuuri was sure Viktor wouldn’t mind having meetings aboard the  _ Stammi _ with Yuuri in his lap warming his cock.

“Are you going to teach me how to make some of your delicious food?” Viktor asked, his mouth already watering at the thought of Yuuri’s near-magical talent in the kitchen.

“Yes, it’s about time you tried making your own food again, Vitya.” Yuuri teased, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s cheek and pulling him through the cabin door. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, lovely person. 
> 
> <3 ia 
> 
> next week- a break from the heaviness.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri take a short break for lunch, stories and distractions.

Lunch had been an interesting affair to say the least. Yuuri became so exasperated with Viktor’s clumsiness in the galley that he asked him to kindly sit at the table in the corner, out of the way. Viktor complied, happy to watch Yuuri move around the small kitchen preparing their meal. 

He especially loved watching Yuuri knead the bread dough, his forearms flexing and tensing with the action. It was strangely erotic, Viktor could barely keep himself under control below the belt. He had never seen Yuuri work so efficiently, even back at the tavern. Yuuri and Cookie had developed their own verbal shorthand while they worked, and watching them was like attending a play in a foreign language. He barely understood what was happening, but it was entertaining to observe.

It had never been more clear to Viktor than that moment; Yuuri had found joy here below deck, and his smile was enough to confirm it.

Yuuri plated their food; a slice of salted, preserved meat, a hard wedge of cheese and a warm, fresh roll. Viktor adored the rolls Yuuri baked. Food made while the  _ Stammi  _ was at sea was never stellar, but everything Yuuri touched was made better. When everything was ready for transport back to the cabin, Yuuri hoisted the tray over his shoulder, pulling it away from Viktor’s grasping hands. 

“How cruel! You would allow your mate to wilt like a flower for something as paltry as good manners?" Viktor bemoaned when Yuuri refused to let him eat and walk at the same time.

“Not only is it rude, but I want you to see how much work it is for me to carry our food like this every day.” Yuuri thrust a finger into the middle of Viktor’s chest, mahogany eyes capturing the icy blue in blistering eye contact. “Watch me, Captain. Don’t you dare take your eyes off me.” 

The command from his omega shot straight to Viktor’s cock, a thrill that, while unexpected, was certainly not unpleasant. What other demands could Yuuri make? Viktor's mind began to wander as he imagined it… he would have to propose the idea to Yuuri later.

“Aye aye, Captain Yuuri,” Viktor crooned in reply, watching his mate deftly climb the ladders to the upper deck and through their cabin door without the use of his hands. 

The walk was mildly successful, with only a few stealthy readjustments and sideways glances from the crew; Viktor's attention was wholly fixed on Yuuri's ass as it moved in front of him. Yuuri's hips swayed sinfully, Viktor fought tooth and nail against his alpha to keep his bodily reactions under control.

When they had returned to the cabin and hidden away from prying eyes, Viktor gave in to the urge to touch, setting his hands on Yuuri's hips and pressing himself against his love's ass. Yuuri rolled his hips backward into Viktor, laughing softly at Viktor's almost violent shudder. Yuuri set the tray down on the table, preparing it for their meal.

“If I have to watch you do that one more time, Yuuri…" Viktor's voice was low and dark, letting arousal color it shamelessly, "I swear to the gods above, I won’t be able to control myself.”

Yuuri snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m certain you would lose control.” He teased, continuing his careful work. “I have a feeling your alpha would hardly enjoy letting every one of your subordinates watch you take me apart.” Yuuri arched his back as he bent over the table, pushing harder into Viktor. “We both know you’d rather go bald than allow any of them to hear me moaning and crying your name.”

Viktor’s poor cock had never been confused this way before. The confusion read plain as day on his features and Yuuri slipped free of Viktor's grasp to sit at the table to eat, watching the imaginary wheels turn behind Viktor’s eyes.

“Come eat, love. Unless you’re willing to surrender your food.” Viktor managed to hear the threat through the cloud of torrid thoughts in his head, swallowing them all down before they became an issue. “I suppose I’ll just have your roll then, too.”

“No, no, I don’t intend to let my Yuuri’s cooking pass me by,” Viktor laughed, forcing himself to come back to the moment. 

They ate quietly, both of them swimming in thoughts of what they had discussed. Viktor couldn't help but see Yuuri differently now, the man before him so regal, so strong in the face of so much pain. He was beautiful, his warm amber eyes glittering like polished jasper in the afternoon sunlight; Viktor could easily imagine a crown on his brow, royal and kind, forgiving and wonderful.

Yuuri hadn't felt so free in years, the weight lifted from his shoulders was now tossed into the sea. Viktor murmured quiet praise of the food as he ate, and Yuuri made a quiet note in his mind to add more honey to the rolls. Viktor’s bare foot slid between his beneath the table and Yuuri laughed softly. 

“Tickles.” Yuuri said after chewing and swallowing his bite. 

Viktor smiled at him, a small, guarded thing that Yuuri recognized. Viktor had something on his mind and he could tell. They continued in relative quiet, Viktor’s hand crossing the table and twining with Yuuri’s. Their break could be extended beyond lunch, Yuuri happily decided. A distraction was in order. When they finished their meal, Yuuri rounded the table and pulled Viktor into their bed, wrapping himself around his mate with clinging limbs and sweet kisses. 

“You’re beautiful, love.” Viktor crooned, sinking into the space between Yuuri’s ear and his shoulder, kissing his throat and savoring the small sounds of pleasure he worked from Yuuri’s mouth. Viktor inhaled Yuuri’s thick, sweet scent, drinking it in like the sweetest ambrosia. Yuuri could feel the hardness of Viktor’s cock pressed against his stomach as he leaned over him, casting him entirely in shadow.

“So are you.” Yuuri answered, letting the praise fall from his lips without a second thought. Viktor’s chest rumbled against Yuuri’s; even without a bond, Yuuri could feel Viktor’s pleasure, could feel his happiness. “I’m exhausted, Vitya.”

Viktor laughed and curled around Yuuri’s frame, kissing at his throat and the spot just below his ear that had him squirming. “Have I tired you out, love?”

“You certainly have. Wrangling you in the galley was enough to put me in my grave.” Yuuri teased back, yawning behind his hand. “Tell me a story, would you?”

“A story?” Viktor echoed, remembering the moment that he had asked Yuuri to do the same, on that first night. “Shall I tell you the tale of the first night we met?” Yuuri flushed bright red and Viktor knew he had chosen correctly. He curled in and began to tell his story.

* * *

Viktor remembered that first night. They were coming off of a very lucrative raid, and Viktor had offered to pay for each of his immediate subordinates to spend the night with a partner of their choice. Chris, ever the romantic, had wasted hours trying to find the right escort. He had never been too interested in whoring, instead sidling up beside a beautiful young man at the bar. Viktor, on the other hand, was desperately trying to replace something untouchable, trying to fill the space left behind with one-night flings and empty promises to return. 

That night he had met a pretty brunette omega, blue eyes hazy with preheat. He was nice looking, if a bit too handsy for Viktor's taste. The man smelled of desperation, and not necessarily the sexy kind. He was hanging onto Viktor's arm for dear life, pawing at the muscles in his chest and shoulders and twisting fingers in the silver hair that fell to his collarbones. Viktor and his higher ranking officers made their way into the tavern, already piss-drunk, but not nearly drunk enough to manage his companion.

He could feel the shift in atmosphere as the group of them entered the establishment. Chairs creaked as their patrons turned, hushed whispers exchanged between friends, mumbled  _ ‘pirates’  _ and an almost reverent  _ ‘Nikiforov’ _ rippled through the crowd. A few people gathered their things quickly, stood up and left the tavern, leaving gold on the table in their place. Viktor spied a large table near the hearth that looked about the right size for the group, and pulled his temporary partner through the mess of tables.

“Mmmmm, I love sitting by the fireplace… so warm and cozy, isn't it?” the omega purred into Viktor's ear. He was starting to regret choosing a talkative one. When they had finally taken their seats, a man with a thin moustache and horseshoe hair greeted them, a clearly false gold tooth glinting in the light of the hearth.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to the Gilded Hull. My name is Tobias, owner and proprietor. Captain Nikiforov, I presume?” The man's breath reeked like day-old fish, the obvious posturing of a beta with a power complex. As drunk as he was, Viktor easily fell into the cold demeanor he always assumed in business dealings, knowing the kind of offers that would soon be spilling from the greasy man's mouth. The man extended a hand to shake, which Viktor waved off like a buzzing gnat. Shaking a man’s hand was below him.

“You presume correctly. Good to meet you, Tobias.” Viktor replied coolly, keeping his jaw tight, voice unaffected and distant as always.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your patronage, Captain?” Fish-Breath asked, the greed in his eyes spilling out of his lips. Viktor rolled his eyes, turning to his first mate, and in some cases, business liaison.

“Surely you can imagine why we are here, sir.” Christophe replied, taking the reins of the conversation. “Now please, send for some mead and rum, if you have it.” The man was very unsubtly attempting to sell them something, which was quite an affront to the prideful persona the Captain preferred. Tobias huffed a short, indignant breath before turning on his heel.

“Gods alive, what a pathetic man.” Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off the wretched stink that had clouded their table and had started to give him a headache.

“Boy! Mead to the far table!  _ Now!” _ The flea's voice ripped through the air, sending another jolt of pain through Viktor's temples. The whimpering omega beside him only continued to whine and play with his hair, which served to worsen matters even further.

“Yes sir!”

Viktor perked up slightly at the sound, a voice sweet and smooth like caramel. His eyes scanned the throng of people, the haze of drunkenness distorting his vision. His eyes caught a head of messy raven hair, a smile brighter than the sun. His heart stopped.

A strikingly beautiful man stood before the table, a tray of flagons resting against his hip. Dark shoulder-length hair framed warm mahogany eyes in such a way that it must have been illegal. The man was an angel in flesh. And  _ gods _ , his thighs.

“Good evening! Meads all 'round?” The angel spoke, Viktor was awash in the sweetness of his voice, a foreign accent tinting the words beautifully. Viktor could feel that his mouth was open, scrambling for any kind of reaction, but somehow was unable to summon anything coherent from the murky depths of his drunken brain.

“Yes, please dear. Thank you.” Chris stepped in, metaphorically picking Viktor's jaw off the ground. The boy smiled politely, setting frothy mugs in front of each of them. Viktor grabbed his and tipped it to the ceiling, downing it almost immediately. Chris sighed heavily, knowing he would soon be on child-minding duty. “And  _ mon ami _ , keep them coming, please.”

“Of course, sir.” Viktor was completely enchanted with the way his mouth moved, the corners of his lips turned up in a pleasant smile. He wanted to kiss him more than he wanted to take another breath. “Call if you need anything-”

“And what do I call you, sweet?” Christophe crooned. 

“Oh,” He was visibly caught off guard by the question, as if the concept of being called by his name was foreign. “My name is Yuuri, but as long as you holler 'boy’ I'll be right there.” Chris smiled and  _ Yuuri _ turned his back to the group, weaving his way back to another table.

“ _ Chris _ ! Did you see him? He’s so pretty!” Viktor drawled wetly, dropping his chin into his hands, watching the tavern boy walk away. “Did you see his thighs? I just want him to squeeze my head in there. Just for a little bit.” Viktor giggled at his first mate, who abruptly kicked him under the table.

“Ow,  _ damnit _ , what was that for?” Viktor snapped, scowling at Chris; he startled at Chris’s aggressive nod at the man seated beside Viktor, who looked like he was ready to walk out of the tavern.

“Captain, you’re being very rude to your guest.” Viktor’s eyes lazily followed the way Chris had nodded, remembering he had brought a man into the tavern with them.

“Oh, I totally forgot you were there!” Viktor laughed wetly, “’m sorry! What’s your name again?”

“Dear gods, Viktor.” Chris sighed, head in his hands. The poor omega got up and walked out the door, but not without first giving the Captain an earful. It went completely ignored by Viktor, whose attention was solely focused on the beautiful serving boy, laughing gently with a few patrons. He adored the way his eyes crinkled at the outside edges, the softness of his cheeks and hips.

Viktor was left to his own devices and needed to be corralled by Chris all night. He apologized to the sweet man he had met at the bar, offering to pay for as many drinks as he could stomach if he would help him keep the inebriated Captain out of trouble. He shrugged, saying “I don’t have anything else to do tonight. Sure. Why not?” Chris laughed, thanking him and pecking a kiss into his cheek, soft as a peach.

Viktor spent the remainder of the night calling for Yuuri by name, adding an extra emphasis on the long ‘u’ of it, his accent growing thicker and more garbled with every flagon of mead he drank. Chris apologized to the serving boy profusely, giving him a more than generous tip. He smiled sweetly, thanked him and set off again, weaving through the tables with the ease of a dolphin in the waves.

* * *

“Vitya, please tell me you didn’t say those things in front of another man.” Yuuri laughed at the retelling of the old memory. It felt like a dream now, remembering the time before he spent his afternoons like this, curled against Viktor on the leather davenport, his stomach full of good food and his heart warmed by a lover’s touch.

“It’s hardly my fault, one cannot simply  _ not _ ogle your thighs aloud.” Yuuri nearly choked on his cider. “But in my defense, I was very drunk and you have very nice thighs.” Viktor laughed softly, the edge of a growl underscoring the compliment, running short-cropped fingernails along the soft, long curves of Yuuri's outer thighs. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri laughed again at the tickling sensation. “You liked me that long ago, did you?” Yuuri hummed happily, nuzzling at his mate's throat.

“Oh, darling, of course I did. Why else would I keep spending my nights in a shoddy tavern loft instead of my lovely private cabin? To be close to a certain beautiful, enchanting, sexy tavern boy.” Viktor's voice dropped low, rumbling in his chest.

“I thought you just needed time on land… not that you were trying to get in my trousers.” Yuuri teased, poking Viktor’s side.

“Oh no, it was all about you, my love. I had to swallow my pride a bit and make the deal with Fish-Breath to let me stay there while we ported.” Yuuri recoiled at the mention of Tobias, but Viktor’s touch brought him back to the present. “I simply adored hearing you hum while you worked, the little wiggle in your rear when you thought no one was watching. I was falling hopelessly, deeply and altogether completely in love with you. And to be fair, I didn’t want to get into your trousers so much as I wanted to get you out of your trousers.”

“Such a romantic, Vitya… telling me you love me and complimenting my rear end in the same breath.” Yuuri laughed as Viktor tossed him into bed, straddling him and placing a wet kiss under the crook of his chin.

“You know me, darling,” Viktor teased against his skin, savoring the pleased purr rumbling in Yuuri’s throat. 

“Unfortunately.” Yuuri quipped in reply. 

“ _ Unfortunately? _ ” Viktor pulled away with a dramatic gasp, his hand pressed to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. Next you’ll say I’m balding.”

Yuuri snorted a laugh and wrapped his legs around Viktor’s waist, tugging him back down into bed with a sharp pull. “Only kidding.” With a soft grunt, Yuuri flipped their positions, leaning over Viktor’s frame. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too, Yuuri.” Viktor laughed softly, his eyes growing dark as Yuuri’s did too. “Shall I show you what I imagined doing? Watching you bend over that counter, swaying these wonderful hips from side to side…”

Yuuri hummed, pleased, as Viktor’s hands ran along his thighs, his hips, his waist. “Perhaps I’d allow a demonstration,” Yuuri teased, grinding down on Viktor’s erection. Viktor moaned, his head tipping back. “You wanted to fuck me then, did you?”   


“Gods, I did,” Viktor shuddered, “It’s remarkable that I managed to hold myself together. I would have thrown myself at your feet for the chance.” 

Yuuri flushed at the compliment. “Is that so, Vitya?” Yuuri sat back on his heels, sliding slowly toward the edge of the bed. Viktor’s eyes went wide as Yuuri moved, setting his feet on the plank floor. “Here is your chance, love.”

Viktor moved quickly, scrambling to the floor with an uncharacteristic lack of finesse. The want in his eyes was as clear as the bulge in his trousers, growing damp around the head where it strained against the fabric. 

“Show me.” Yuuri breathed, his cheeks glowing hot with pride as Viktor’s own were painted red. “Show me what you would have done.”

Viktor lifted shaking hands to the fastening of Yuuri’s trousers and loosened the drawstring carefully. It was unlike anything Yuuri had seen of Viktor, such a firm, immovable force of need reduced to trembling between his legs. It was addicting and Yuuri craved more. 

“ _ Gods _ ,” Viktor rasped as he pushed the soft material down over Yuuri’s ass. “Utterly divine, these thighs, darling.” Viktor’s hands were tentative at first, smoothing over Yuuri’s flesh in slow, careful motions. “I wish you’d hold me between your thighs, love. It would be a wonderful way to die.”

Yuuri laughed softly and let his pants fall to the floor, pushing them away with one foot. “I fully intend on keeping you alive, but I’ll keep that request in mind.” Viktor smiled then, that joyous, heart-shaped thing that made Yuuri’s stomach flip. “Now, surely, you weren’t simply intending on complimenting my thighs while you’re down there.”

Viktor flushed and shook his head, pressing the first of, by Yuuri’s count, a thousand kisses to the soft inner flesh of his thighs, the sharp jut of bone on either hip. Viktor kissed every line and freckle, every silvery stretch mark left behind from his soft, round childhood. He mumbled quietly against Yuuri’s skin, soft praise in the Common Tongue and his first language, both of which made Yuuri shiver. 

Yuuri laced one hand into Viktor’s hair, still braided as if he had spent his day at the helm, windswept strays framing his face as he kissed Yuuri’s inner thighs. He was beautiful, and Yuuri thanked the gods for the chance to appreciate Viktor’s beauty from this vantage; Viktor’s eyes fluttered closed with every kiss, his long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. 

Viktor looked worshipful, there between Yuuri’s thighs. His cheek rested softly against the right as a ringed hand smoothed over the left. Yuuri felt like a holy relic, being adored by a pilgrim. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Yuuri purred, watching Viktor shudder. 

Viktor made a quite appealing sound then, the tiniest whine slid from his lips. Yuuri felt himself glowing with pride at the shift between them, his alpha happy to be anchored between his legs.

“Quite so, love,” Viktor crooned, his voice garbled by a rumbly, pleased growl. “I could spend eternity here between these thighs and it would never be enough.” Yuuri laughed and carded his hand through Viktor’s hair, admiring the view of the great Captain Viktor Nikiforov, knelt between his thighs.

"Vitya," Yuuri began, savoring the feeling of Viktor's silky hair between his fingers, "Would you really have done  _ this _ back then? Before we left Rockport.” 

Viktor's lashes fluttered softly, fanning over flushed cheeks. "I… well. I certainly imagined doing so, yes."

Yuuri felt a sharp pang of arousal coil in his core at the thought. "What would you have done?” Yuuri asked, pulling his lip between his teeth. Viktor, looking embarrassed already, buried his face in Yuuri’s thigh. “Vitya, tell me.”

Viktor pressed a careful kiss to Yuuri’s bare thigh and sighed, the sound of it wet and loud in the quiet of the cabin. “I… I wanted to pull you into my lap that first night. The moment I saw that wretch staring at you.”

Yuuri’s eyes glittered as he pulled him up into bed with him and crawled into his lap, wrapping his legs around Viktor’s waist and pressing himself flush to his chest. He pushed out a long, rumbly purr, rolling his hips against Viktor’s groin. 

“Like this?” Yuuri asked, his breath hot against Viktor’s ear. Viktor moaned and nodded, gripping tightly at Yuuri’s bare ass where it brushed against his thighs. “What else would you have done, Vitya?”

Viktor’s cock twitched against Yuuri’s ass— his eyes slid closed and he shuddered. “I… I wished I had invited you to sleep in that bed with me, to ravish you and let your scent soak into those sheets.” Viktor admitted, slowly rocking with Yuuri’s rhythm, his breath hitching as Yuuri danced his lips over the line of his throat. “I wanted to bend you over that counter in the kitchen, to taste you until I had to help you stand.”

Yuuri shivered with pleasure and continued to roll in his lap. “Would you have fucked me where others could see us?” His cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, the thought of it tickling some long-forgotten fetish in his mind. He had often thought of it, of being watched, of making a show of himself, but it had only ever remained a fantasy. 

Viktor  _ whimpered _ , biting into the meat of Yuuri’s shoulder. “Fuck, yes,” Viktor’s breaths came hurried and wet against Yuuri’s skin. “When that worm wanted to sell you. I would have been more than happy to claim you then.” 

“And your crew?” Yuuri shuddered, knowing the fantasy was sparking something to life in Viktor too. “Would you take me for them to watch? Would you let them watch you fuck me?”

“ _ Fuck, _ yes, love. I’d want them to hear every one of your gorgeous sounds. I’d want them to know how much you love when I touch you.” Viktor gave himself fully to the fantasy and pushed Yuuri back into their nest with a growled moan. Kneeled between Yuuri’s legs, Viktor loosened the tie of Yuuri’s shirt, peeling him out of it and tossing it over his shoulder. Viktor’s pride surged at Yuuri looking so debauched underneath him, hard, panting and presenting his neck so beautifully. 

Viktor pulled away abruptly, leaving Yuuri alone on the bed.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move, love.” He pushed all he could into the command, watching Yuuri fall deeper into the control of his omega. Yuuri felt pinned to the bed, his heart pounding in his ears as Viktor's weight disappeared from the bed. The privy door opened and shut behind Viktor and Yuuri's arousal pitched ever higher and higher, not flagging for even a moment. He didn't dare. His mate would be back soon to claim him.  _ To claim him _ . Yuuri shivered at the thought. Viktor returned a few moments later, a vial of oil in hand.

“I'm happy I picked this up while we were at port…" Viktor crooned, his cheeks flushed and warm. Yuuri squirmed on his back, pinned down by Viktor's gaze. "It's a special kind of aphrodisiac oil… very similar to omega slick. I think you and I will both enjoy this, love.” 

Yuuri could only muster a whine in reply, the thought of it overwhelming. Viktor chuckled in that rumbly, pleased way that Yuuri loved. Yuuri’s story from the morning reminded him of the purchase Chris's last mate had requested. Yuuri was writhing in their bed, trying to find any kind of friction against his cock, his hole, anything. 

“V-Vitya, please,” he pleaded, spreading his thighs wide, "Please, in me, fuck me, please-" Viktor was on him before he could say another word.

“Gods, Yuuri, you're a vision... so wanton and eager for this cock. Is that what you want?” Viktor grasped at the base of his length through his trousers. “This? Is this what you want?"

“Please, Alpha," Yuuri's voice cracked with need, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "I want to feel you in me."

The moaned request was too sweet to refuse. Viktor slicked up a finger with the oil and gently pressed it against the tight ring of muscle between his legs. It slid in with little resistance, but a choked moan from Yuuri made Viktor's cock throb with anticipation. He added another finger, stretching and coaxing Yuuri's body into relaxing slowly. 

The oil felt better than his own slick, or the memory of it at least; it tingled like mint salve and burned with the warmth of Viktor's skin. It was all Yuuri could do to ball his fists in the bedsheets and cling to them with every ounce of strength he possessed.

Yuuri's moans turned guttural, inhuman and feral, rumbling deep in his chest. Viktor curled his fingers against that spot, and Yuuri had to bite his hand to suppress the scream.

“Don’t muffle your noises. I want to hear them, darling.” Viktor encouraged, pressing down on that spot again with devastating accuracy; Yuuri immediately released the skin from between his teeth, unleashing the unbridled scream he’d been holding back. Pleasure rolled off Yuuri’s skin like water during a thunderstorm. Viktor knew exactly how to take him apart, and he fully intended on doing so.

“Please, Vitya, don’t make me wait anymore,” Yuuri begged, tears pearling in the corners of his eyes. Viktor could tell just from the clench of Yuuri’s thighs that he was desperate, half a step from just taking control and shoving him into bed— and god, what a lovely moment that would be. Viktor poured the oil directly into his hand, letting some fall onto the length of his dick. A few quick strokes had him moaning quietly, rocking into his hand. Yuuri was a whimpering mess, fists twisting in the sheets.

“Tell me how much you want this, love. I need to hear you.” Viktor directed, rubbing the head of his cock against Yuuri’s hole, savoring the whimper he earned in reply.

“Please- Vitya, please!” Yuuri sobbed, wrapping his thighs around Viktor’s hips. “Need you  _ now! _ ” Viktor thrust in, fully sheathed in one stroke. Work-worn hands wrapped tight around Yuuri’s hips and Viktor set a punishing pace. Each harsh thrust forced a sharp exhale from the omega, tinged with a slurry of mewling moans and shrieking cries, interspersed with a reverent chanting of his alpha’s name.

“Gods, Yuuri. So beautiful like this for me. Just for me.” Viktor reached down and rolled one of Yuuri’s nipples between his oil-slicked fingers, pulling an obscene moan from Yuuri’s mouth. Viktor purred deviously, gripping the other nipple and matching the movement of his other hand. 

Yuuri was shaking with the effort of staving off his orgasm. His chest was heaving under Viktor’s touch, rolling turned to pulling, gentle flicking, tugging. He wished Viktor would latch his mouth onto one of them, swirl a hot tongue around the sensitive bud but found his mouth unable to form the request.

Yuuri’s moans climbed upward again as Viktor’s thrusts became sharper, more erratic, signaling his soon-coming release. Yuuri grabbed the base of Viktor’s long silver braid and pulled, coming nose to nose with the alpha. Sloppy mouths met hungrily, moaning into the shared air between them.

“I love you, Vitya.” Yuuri panted, the closeness of Viktor’s scent nearly enough to make him come on its own. Viktor wrapped a hand around Yuuri's cock, stroking him with that slick. Yuuri's body tightened around him, fluttering and clutching at him as his edge neared.

“I love you too, Yuura.” Viktor returned, breathless and flushed. His pace finally broke into stuttering thrusts, groaning as he filled Yuuri’s ass with his pearly mess. Yuuri came then too, broken moans bouncing off the cabin walls as he painted his stomach and chest. Viktor withdrew slowly, his body too wrung out, too sensitive from such a strong orgasm outside of his rut. 

With a tired purr, Yuuri’s eyes fluttered shut, blissed out and riding the aftershocks of his orgasm. A soft, curious tongue lapped at the mess Yuuri had made, slowly working its way up his body. Yuuri gasped when Viktor licked a hot stripe across his left nipple, then his right, planting a kiss on the sensitive skin before claiming his lips with a contented sigh.

“You’re incredible.” Viktor crooned against Yuuri’s lips, proud at the sight of his omega happy, sated and purring after the heavy events of the morning. The sweetness of the moment was quickly soured by the realization that Viktor would need to tell his story when Yuuri woke. He prayed selfishly that Yuuri felt like sleeping until tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed c; next week: Viktor's story.
> 
> <3 ia


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit heavy and does involve the trauma of parental loss and childhood abandonment. (This is changed from the original.)

After Yuuri woke from his nap, they found themselves seated at that table again. Their break smoothed Yuuri’s edges; he showed no signs of panic, anxious tics gone like dust in the wind. His calm demeanor gave Viktor hope, that perhaps after he had removed the dressing and reset the bone, he could begin to heal. He had been suppressing it for years. He said a silent prayer to the gods that Yuuri would be able to forgive him. That he would stay.  _ Please, just let him stay. _

“Vitya? Are you alright?” Yuuri gently prodded, offering his hands like Viktor had to him that morning.

“Yes, I think so.” Viktor's hands were shaking now, even as Yuuri held them. Tears began to well up and choke him before he could begin the story. Ugly, stuttering breaths kept him from continuing.

“Let's start somewhere easy. Tell me about the place you grew up.” Yuuri offered. His heart was aching at the sight of his alpha so broken. His omega was begging him to comfort, comfort, comfort. He ran his fingers over the calloused knuckles of his mate's hands, encouraging him gently. Viktor pressed out a long breath, keeping his eyes set firmly on Yuuri’s.

“I grew up in the hills of the Northern Territories. My mother always played fun about the cold being the reason I had eyes blue as ice… and why I was always drawn back to it.”

“The ice?” Yuuri questioned, feeling the blurred edges of a memory stir in the back of his mind.

“My mother and I used to skate on the frozen pond near our home. I loved it, and I miss it every day. Almost as much as I miss her.” Viktor trailed off, allowing himself to savor the sweetness of the past before diving into deeper darkness. Of his mother's silver hair rippling in the air, it had been longer than Viktor's was; he felt his fingertips absently touching the end of his braid.

“Mari used to take me skating too… that's how I learned to dance like I did, in the tavern.” Yuuri's eyes were gleaming with excitement, his omega purring to have found more common threads with his mate. “Would you like to skate with me someday? Take me to that lovely pub with the spiced cider, and spin me off my feet?” Viktor reached across the table to cradle his omega's cheek, stroking a thumb over the soft flesh there.

“Of course, love. We'll find a nice, quiet hearth to curl up together, read poetry and make love. Drink spiced cider to our hearts’ content. We can find somewhere to forget the world and skate until it's only me, you, and the snow. How does that sound?” Tears welled up in two sets of eyes, the thought of hiding away in the mountains a beautiful and tempting daydream.

“I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, Vitya.” Yuuri smiled Viktor's favorite smile, the flushed cheeks, the little eye crinkles. It broke his heart every time he saw it.

“And I pray you never leave my side, love.” Viktor breathed, saying a silent thank you to the gods for the heavenly creature seated across the table from him.

“Vitya, will you tell me about your parents?” Yuuri encouraged his mate to continue.

“My mother was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I might be biased, I haven't seen her since I was a child. But I still remember her warmth and her smile. She fell ill when I was very young, I have nothing but fond memories of her. My father was a… good man. He worked hard, brought home nice things for me, cared for me as best he could being on his own. One day he brought back the sweetest little dog. She kept me company, we played all sorts of silly games together. Makkachin was my first friend.” 

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Viktor’s lips as memories surfaced, chasing Makkachin through the garden, picnics with his mother in the lazy summer heat. She would read to him, though he couldn’t remember the stories. Ache rang in his chest and he breathed through it, continuing ever forward. 

“My father… he was distant, but never unkind. Living mostly on my own, with the house staff, kept me insulated from the harsher aspects of our province. I didn’t know just how unpopular my family was.” Viktor retold the story like he had been rehearsing in quiet moments alone, not finding the comfort he had expected in the memorized moments. He had attempted to convince himself that if he committed it to memory it wouldn’t hurt as much; unfortunately, it was still agonizingly difficult, and he could tell that Yuuri knew.

Yuuri had been releasing his sweet cherry scent into the air, coaxing Viktor into security, into the sensation of safety with his mate. And Viktor loved him for that.

“Yuura, could we move this to the deck? It’s a lovely afternoon, and it would be a shame to waste it holed up in the cabin.” He needed to be closer to his mate, closer to that calming scent. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it all on his own shoulders.

“That sounds lovely.” Yuuri stood from his seat and joined Viktor at his side, nesting into him easily. “But Vitya… please don’t run from me. Keep pushing deeper. I swear it, you’ll feel so much freer after all of it is laid bare.” Yuuri warned, desperately hoping to keep his mate on track.

“Of course, love. I just need a bit of fresh air.” Viktor offered in reply, praying Yuuri wouldn’t sense the shaking in his arms.

The two made for the door to the private deck, now furnished to accommodate their morning breakfasts and chats; soft cushions were piled in one corner served as seating and on more than one occasion, a very comfortable place to make love. 

Viktor had insisted on purchasing a table to dine outside as well, as the weather grew fairer by the day. A low table in the Eastern style that Yuuri preferred now overlooked the rear of the ship, the frothing wake of the massive craft parting behind them in a wide V. Yuuri was overjoyed to have a comfort from his homeland, even if it was just a table like the one his mother had kept in their home. It brought a smile to his face to watch Viktor shift uncomfortably from his knees to his rear, his long legs unaccustomed to long periods of the folded position. Viktor always balked at Yuuri's quiet laughter, but never once complained. Yuuri’s heart was full to overflowing for his alpha.

Viktor settled in the middle of the soft cushions, inviting Yuuri to sit across his lap. The omega nestled himself against the warm expanse of his mate’s chest, listening to the thrum of his heart.

“Are you comfortable, darling? You may be there for a while.” Something deeply melancholic tinted Viktor’s voice, and Yuuri’s omega whined a bit at the pain in his mate’s timbre. Yuuri curled into Viktor’s warmth, tracing gentle lines into the skin there, and releasing more of his calming scent into the air. Viktor hummed his appreciation into Yuuri’s hair, a soft growl resonating in his chest.

“Mhm, very comfortable, Vitya. You were telling me about your town?” Yuuri supplied.

“Yes. That.”' Viktor's voice dropped noticeably as he attempted to keep his breathing slow. He knew he was walking a dangerous line, and any slip of control over his memories would bring it all back, too much, too fast. It would undoubtedly pull him under. “I didn’t know just how much we were disliked by our neighbors. And I couldn’t have known, in retrospect. I was a child. All I knew were my father, Yulia, and Makka. 

“He was the Captain of a merchant ship, but the lifestyle he gave me was suspect. Common merchants didn’t hire staff, but my father did. The people in our town were suspicious of my father’s money… they accused him of terrible things, theft, embezzlement, the like. Piracy.” Viktor laughed at it after the fact, though he had taken up the mantle quite purposefully; perhaps out of spite, out of anger for the man his father had become. The gifts, the unexplained income, weeks-long absences. It all made perfect sense with the perspective of an adult. But that didn’t help him sleep at night.

“The piracy had been the worst accusation, the most baseless. Pirates were criminals, hardened men who didn’t care for their children, didn’t love. But my father… he loved me, as much as a man like him was capable. But when my father’s ship didn’t return to port, and news spread of a certain pirate band fell… the timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.” 

“My father was the Northern Ghost. He lied to protect me, to provide for me. But he still got himself killed in battle, his ship lost at sea.” Yuuri felt the hot splash of a tear against his cheek as Viktor’s voice broke. He fought the urge to cry too, knowing he needed to be the strong one in this moment in time. For his mate. “Yulia, she was the one who told me he was gone.”

“Viktor…” Yuuri breathed, looking up at his mate, eyes distant, jaw clenched.

“Yulia loved me as if I was her own. She brought her daughter to the house every now and then… Mila and I were friends. As much as I could have had friends.” Absently, Viktor wondered what had become of them, if Yulia had been able to shake herself from the legacy of his father’s shame. “She helped me find the expensive things to save before others found it. She dumped the contents of my mother’s jewelry box into a bag, told me to hide it in a knapsack with my favorite clothes. I asked her if I would be her son, if she would take me in.” Viktor felt his chest shudder with phantom pains, long since healed. “She couldn’t afford to raise another child. Not without the wages she had just lost. My father left no will, and the estate would surely be seized by the city…”

“Oh, Vitya—” A sharp inhale escaped Yuuri’s lips.

“She left me at a home for orphaned boys. I don’t blame her, I know she would have saved me if she could." Viktor knew he should gloss over a few of the more heinous truths of the orphanage, for his own sake and Yuuri’s, but something about the warmth of the omega against his skin, trying his best to calm his alpha drew the full, ugly truth from his mouth.

“Nothing about that place was pleasant. I was always afraid. I missed my mother, I missed Yulia... I felt abandoned in the worst sense. They kept us separate from the boys who had already presented, especially the alphas; it made for easier containment. All the doors locked from the outside, and I had the terrible privilege of presenting overnight. In a room full of other boys. I was fifteen, so I at least understood what my body did when I was... aroused. But I could feel that this time was different. I could hear my alpha screaming at me, and I was terrified. I made it through the night, fighting against every urge in my body to breed.”

Walking through the memory shook Viktor to the core. He remembered every moment of that night in vivid detail. The assault of new smells he hadn’t noticed before, the soft sounds of the sleeping boy next to him, the distant smell and sounds of another boy pleasuring himself in the solitude of night. He had bitten his fingernails to the quick, gnawed his lips until he drew blood. He pulled the new, thin silver hairs from his chest, trying to distract himself from the ache, the pull under his skin. He didn’t even dare try to ease the pull with his own hand. Yuuri could feel the trembling, his omega begging Yuuri to comfort, to soothe.

“I was thrown in with the other alphas— that was where the real hell began. We had no outlet for the rage, the pent-up adrenaline, so we took it out on each other. I tried to avoid it, to fight against my nature and ride out my last year before I was old enough to take care of myself. But one boy always had it out for me. 

“He provoked me into fighting him once, and only once. He underestimated me… I was half-starved and 'too pretty to be a real alpha'. I blinked and he was down, bleeding and beaten within an inch of his life before I could stop myself.” 

Viktor remembered the ugly, gnarled mess that he had left that boy’s face… It haunted him from time to time, when he fought. He could see a mop of messy ginger curls and gapped teeth clear as day. 

“I knew that I had to leave, that I had to escape before they sent for the constable. I packed my things and ran out the back door while they ate their supper.” Viktor felt out of breath, just like he had that night, panting, his chest aching. It was cold that night, his fingertips began to turn blue. He slept behind an old whiskey barrel in town that night, huddled against a brick wall with his thin sweater barely blocking the cold.

“I lied about my age when I found work on a cargo ship. I kept well enough to myself there, content to just work and sail. Standing at the helm, watching men work below me, urging the ship forward by the collaboration of individual effort, it felt right. I felt as though I had found my place. I fell in love with the ocean and all her terrible secrets. I knew then, I would captain my own ship. The labor hardened me, taught me the value of discipline, loyalty. I rose through the ranks to first mate by the time I was twenty.” Viktor’s chest puffed a bit at that, his alpha pleased with the self-congratulation.

“Wow, Vitya. So determined.” Yuuri laughed, gently poking at the older man’s cheek.

“That I was, my love. I worked hard to gain favor and I perhaps double-crossed a few of the crewmates… but that, my love, is a story for another day. But I was still empty. We spent our time on leave hopping from the brothel to the tavern and back and forth. It all felt hollow. I knew that it would all be for naught without someone to share it with.” He paused to nuzzle at Yuuri’s neck, taking a few deep drags of his scent. He moaned low in his throat on the lazy exhale. Yuuri just turned his head, exposing more skin for the alpha to explore. Viktor needed this. He needed the calming scent of his mate before he continued.

“Vitya,” Yuuri sighed into the touch, “Don’t get distracted, love.” Viktor breathed him in slowly, a low, soft huff.

“No matter where I looked, I couldn’t find the one I was looking for. At every port, in every tavern, in every brothel. I had Christophe, of course. But our beloved first mate wasn't the one I was looking for. I had all but given up. And that was when I found Andrei. Or perhaps, when he found me. He was a scout for what was at the time  _ The King _ , a well-known and feared pirate vessel. Her captain was a dunce of a man. Leroy.” Viktor spat the name, as if it were a rancid bite of meat. “Andrei was luring sailors away from their posts to join Leroy and his crew. He made me an offer I couldn’t quite refuse. A home, treasure, adventure across the sea, endless possibilities. All of that was nice, but what I was truly after was him.” Viktor paused for a moment, looking into Yuuri’s eyes. He was quietly listening, no signs of distress tinted his scent.

“Yuura, you know that I love you with all I am, yes?”

“Of course, Vitya. I love you too. Please. Go on.” He laid a small kiss on Viktor’s cheek, right over the salty trail his tears had left earlier. His omega was hissing in jealousy, but Yuuri knew better. Viktor was his now, and he was Viktor’s.

“I was in love with him. He was intelligent, kind, strong, everything I had been searching for." Viktor allowed himself a small moment to remember, to laugh at himself for not realizing it sooner. 

Andrei was exceedingly talented in hiding his scent, wearing muting balm under a collar, and tying a scarf around his throat. Viktor himself didn't question it, many a sailor hid old scars or bond bites with similar means.

My alpha was drawn to him, so I followed. I met the Captain, Jean-Jacques Leroy. He was an idiot. He ran his life by his knot, cocky and arrogant. He captained with little regard for his crew’s safety. Andrei revealed to me that he had been planning a coup, and it needed a leader.” A heartbreakingly familiar voice filled his ears, sweet and clear as a summer morning.

_ “A new face is just what this revolt needs, Viktor. And I think that face is you.” He whispered over their game of cards. _

_ “Me? Why me? Why not Christophe, or anyone else? Why not you?” Viktor argued, suddenly losing interest in his hand. _

_ “I- I can’t, Viktor. I can’t lead. They won't follow me.” Andrei threw his cards across the table, dropping his head into his hands. _

_ “What lunacy is this, Andrei? Why wouldn’t these men follow you? You’re brave, you’re strong. You are a born leader. I know I would follow you to the ends of the Earth.” And it was true. _

_ “They wouldn’t follow an omega.” Andrei spat, disgusted. Viktor was breathless, the air knocked out of his lungs. _

_ “An omega? Andrei, what-" _

_ “I'm an omega, Viktor. I can’t lead. That’s why they need you.” His green eyes fell to the floor, unspoken words hanging heavy on his tongue. Viktor's half-formed retort fell silent as Andrei spoke again. “That’s why I need you.” _

_ "Andrei—" Viktor breathed, dropping his cards and nearly throwing his chair as he stood, closing the distance between the two of them by a single step. _

_ “Viktor… please,” He smelled it then, saw the sheen of sweat on his brow. He could feel the rabbit-quick thrum of his pulse. _

_ "You're in heat." Viktor whispered. _

_ “It’s close. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you until now. I… I’ve been in love with you since I found you on that barge. I can’t let them know I’m an omega. Not without you. Viktor, I can’t.” He was crying, shaking with sobs. Viktor’s alpha sprang to comfort him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s narrow shoulders. Viktor ran his fingers through the chestnut brown hair, sending his scent spraying into the air. It was warm, spiced like oud and clove. Viktor’s mouth was watering, the scent of an omega in heat nearly too much for him. It was triggering early rut in the alpha. _

_ “Andrei, look at me.” He pulled away from the contact to meet the other man’s eyes. “I love you too. I only followed you here because I wanted to be with you. This life is so exceedingly short, and I am so unbelievably blessed to have found you.” Viktor’s voice was shaking, still barely believing that this was happening. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he smiled up at Viktor. _

_ “Viktor, I don’t want anyone else.” _

_ He didn’t have to think. He just pulled the ring off his hand and slid it onto the other man’s right ring finger. _

_ The two spent the next three days tangled up in each other, exploring each other for the first time. They bonded on the second day, lips and teeth wrapped around each other’s scent glands. The flood of sensation that rolled through Viktor as their bond connected them was nearly orgasmic in and of itself. It was as though his eyes were never truly open. He saw every thought, felt every emotion of his Star pouring into his mind, filling it to bursting. _

The vivid colors of the memory brought fresh tears to Viktor’s eyes. He could still smell him. He could still recall the taste of his blood when they bonded, and his heart ached with the burden of it. He found his fingers tracing the phantom wound on his throat, the flesh where his mark had once been. It was like Andrei had died a second time when Viktor noticed that the mark had disappeared.

“Vitya? Are you okay?” Yuuri called gently, tugging Viktor out of the memory. “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine," Viktor choked out, forcing back more tears. "This is much harder than I expected.”

“I know it’s hard, love. I know. I’m here to listen. I’ll stay by your side forever, if that’s how long it takes.” Yuuri smiled as he sat up in Viktor’s lap to kiss him. Viktor’s heart ached— he didn’t deserve Yuuri. Long-suffering, loving, tender, stubborn-headed Yuuri. Viktor drank in the kiss greedily, swallowing Yuuri’s breathless noises. They parted, panting and lips bitten red.

“I should probably keep talking?” Viktor asked, half hoping that Yuuri would let him stop the story there.

“Probably.” Yuuri leaned back, taking a deep breath of the autumn air. He was fighting hard against his own insecurities; the thought of anyone else being Viktor’s was so dangerously close to rattling him. But he knew that this was the ugly part of healing. This was peeling back dead skin and cleansing wounds, pouring alcohol on torn flesh.

“Andrei revealed to me that he was an omega, the he had been hiding it from the rest of the crew, and we bonded during his heat. We lead the coup against Leroy successfully and took over the ship. Most of the crew I command now is the crew I stole from Leroy, actually. We renamed her the  _ Stammi Vicino _ and dumped Leroy at the next port.”

“Vitya, what does  _ stammi vicino _ mean? I’ve always been meaning to ask.” Yuuri interrupted.

“It means ‘stay close to me’ in Andrei’s native language.” 

“That’s beautiful, Vitya,” Yuuri murmured, feeling the slow roll of VIktor’s chest as he sighed. 

“Hmm, just like someone I know.” Viktor teased, kissing Yuuri's cheek gently. “Okay, okay. I got distracted again. I took the helm at twenty-one, with Andrei as my first mate. We sailed and pillaged to our hearts’ content, falling in love with every place we went. After a few years, we had made quite a reputation for ourselves.” Viktor gestured to the collection of gold hoops in his ear. 

“Thieves became more frequent with every success, but we were always prepared.” Viktor faltered, only for a moment. “Until we weren’t."

Yuuri curled closer, wishing he could crawl into Viktor's chest and soothe the ache himself.

"We had just left port. A small band of the men loyal to Leroy sprang on us while we slept.” A comforting hand reached up and held his cheek, running a thumb over the prickly beginnings of stubble. “I’ll never forget what it felt like, true terror. I thought I had felt every pain imaginable. Nothing prepared me for what it was like to lose him.”

“Viktor, you don’t have to go further, it’s okay. I understand-”

“No, I need to tell you, Yuuri.” Viktor interrupted, “I need to tell you why I’m afraid. Why I am utterly, completely terrified to tie you to myself in that way. I held him while he took his last breath. I felt every ounce of pain that he did. It felt as if I had been shot too. I had begged him to stay below deck, to stay safe. I promised that I would come back for him.”

“Like you did for me.” Yuuri replied with the weight of the realization thick in his voice.

Viktor nodded, a pensive smile on his lips. “Yes. And I would like to apologize for looking like an rabid dog when I retrieved you from the galley. Because I lost him during a raid, because I left him and he followed me into battle. Because he was killed and I couldn’t save him.” Heavy tears clung to silver eyelashes, rolled down sculpted marble cheeks. “I couldn’t save him. And I would never forgive myself if that had happened to you. That’s why I pushed you away… why I tried and failed. Why I locked you down below. I didn’t want to let you close. I didn’t want to fall in love with you again.

“I just kept lying and lying and lying to myself, that I wasn’t in love with you. That I didn’t need you like I need air, that I wouldn’t be lost without you. I was a monster, Yuura. I’m so sorry. The things I did to you… were utterly reprehensible. When I bought you from that man in the tavern… I thought I would be strong enough to let someone in again. But I couldn’t. I fell into the darkness he left behind. I am so, so sorry, love. I don’t know how you would ever want to be with me after all of that. But here you are, so kind and so good. You’re the break in the clouds. An answer to so many drunken prayers. I love you so much. But I can’t bear the idea that I might lose you too.”

“Vitya, I understand. But wouldn’t that be worth the risk?" The statement hung in the air, heavy and expectant. "Because I think so.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” The two words fell like an iron anchor into the ocean, Viktor’s heart sinking with them. “But… Vitya, I’ll never be sure until we do. I know that I want to be yours forever, if you’ll have me. I may not be able to offer you a family right now, but I’ll never stop searching for answers. I can’t be your Andrei; I know that I’ll never replace him. But I can be your Yuura. And I would die a thousand deaths to be your Yuura.” His voice wavered, tears falling freely.

“Yuura…”

“You don’t have to have an answer for me now. I can be patient. My next cycle probably isn't until winter anyway. We have plenty of time to hash this out. I just want you to know how much I love you, and how far I am willing to go to be yours.” The honesty in Yuuri’s voice nearly broke his heart. Viktor felt himself breaking again, tears welling up in his eyes and he pulled Yuuri deeper into himself. 

Yuuri let himself be held as Viktor cried, though the sound of it was much more relieved than aggrieved. When the tears subsided, Yuuri wiped them from Viktor’s eyes and kissed him gently, savoring the moment of lightness like the first burst of sunshine after a typhoon. 

“Another question, Vitya?” Yuuri whispered after a while, sure that Viktor had said what he had wanted to, that the cancer had been excised. 

Viktor nodded, but not before leaning in for another kiss.

“Is this ring his? Is that why it’s so precious to you?” Yuuri asked, twisting the heavy ring around his finger, where it lay loose and warm to the touch. The thought of intruding on Viktor’s past like that, of appropriating something so meaningful… it made him feel queasy. To draft it in his own context seemed selfish. He looked into his mate’s eyes, awaiting some kind of pained reaction, but none came.

“Yes, the ring you are wearing was his... I hope you aren’t upset with me. I understand if you don’t want to wear it. I would love to have a new one made for you, if you’d like.” Both of them were surprised at the ease of which Viktor explained something that had previously been so difficult to discuss. 

A kind smile spread across Viktor's face, reaching his eyes and making them shine. He seemed so unaffected, so carefree. Yuuri felt himself smiling too; Viktor was free of those ghosts that haunted him. He would be himself again, and Yuuri couldn't wait to meet him. 

“We should be porting again in a few months, in the Longshore Isles. I know a lovely jeweler in town there, we’ll go together. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Vitya.” Yuuri pulled the heavy ring off his finger and dropped it into his mate’s warm hand. Viktor nodded gently, and instead of replacing it on his hand, tucked the ring into his pocket. Yuuri laid back against his chest, gazing out across the water, and the sinking sun. 

“Okay. Next question. When did you start reading poetry? You were too young to understand it before the orphanage, and obviously too busy working those big, strong arms on the cargo ship to be doing something so soft as reading poetry.” 

Viktor snorted a laugh and the beautiful, heart-shaped smile graced Viktor’s face once again, pulling a smile from Yuuri too.

“Hah, I suppose so. I gained the love of the finer art when I found a trunk of first editions during a raid. My mother taught me to read early, so I never really lost the love of it. I tried to learn on my own, as well as the mediocre schooling I was given at the home, so that was probably another reason I was an easy target for the other boys. But I have always preferred to be well-read than well-liked by stupid men.”

“And what of your affinity for rum? Was that a pre-pirate inclination? Or did these heathens introduce you to the drink?” Another hearty laugh. Yuuri’s plan to cheer up his mate was working.

“Ah, the rum was a pre-pirate inclination.” Viktor chuckled into Yuuri’s hair. “It was more readily available than fresh water and tea on the cargo ship, so I made do. And I may have acquired a bit of a taste for brown liquors.” Viktor’s smile was a touch bashful, the kind that Yuuri doubted most had seen before.

“Speaking of which, would you like something to drink, Captain? It’s quite past suppertime.”

“I would love something to drink, Yuura.” Viktor smiled fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear. “Let’s go back in, it’s getting a bit chilly.” Viktor rubbed some warmth into Yuuri’s arms, soothing the gooseflesh creeping up his limbs. Yuuri couldn’t help himself from stealing a kiss before standing.

The sun was setting slowly over the water, casting everything in a golden glow. When Yuuri looked back over his shoulder, he caught sight of his mate, his love, tears spilling down his cheeks, his lips curled in an easy smile. The sunset caught Viktor’s hair, illuminating the normal silver with bright golden hues. He was beautiful in his vulnerability, now free of the anchor threatening to pull him under.

Viktor’s heart ached where the pain of his past had once been, like a muscle left sore after too much exertion. The stress had been relieved, and now it was time to heal. Yuuri beckoned him to follow, leading him into the cabin again. Viktor followed, noting how much lighter he felt. Yuuri knew it all and he still loved him; that everlong night they had survived was finally breaking dawn.

They could finally see the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for hurting you, vitya.
> 
> next week: things get messy again. oops.
> 
> <3 ia


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Yuri, learn a bit more about Viktor, and Yuuri faces his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so so so so so sorry for the delay! time was not on my side this week dfkgjhskfdg

A few months passed before they ported again, and Yuuri quickly realized just how accustomed to sea life he had become. His legs were shaky on solid ground, not the other way around as it had been, over a year ago now. 

Rain pattered to the ground, lazy and warm. Yuuri inhaled the soft scent of rain and damp earth— it had been so long since he had last smelled it, and its absence was greatly missed. The crew was busy restocking supplies and rations, Cookie too, had disembarked for the time being. 

"Enjoy some time wit yer mate, Yuuri." Cookie had said, scratching Vicchan between the ears. "Call it vacation."

The recent developments in his relationship with Viktor made him want to accompany him off the ship. He only had to do his part as Viktor's omega, to look pretty, to pretend he wasn't equally as capable as his mate. Yuuri didn’t mind it one bit. Of course, he would rather die than have done any of this with Hisashi, but he rather enjoyed being the Captain’s "arm candy” as Christophe had put it. 

Their first stop for the day after they disembarked was to the public baths, for a deep clean. The sea salt and grime of everyday life on board had caked into their skin and hair, and a quick, frigid bath in the communal head was never quite enough. Yuuri was ecstatic to be visiting a bathhouse— it felt like coming home. He missed the relaxing sensation of the hot water caressing every part of him. Viktor had purchased some oils and soaps from the apothecary, almost greedily anticipating doting on his omega, and Yuuri looked forward to a bit of pampering.

Their relationship was finally creeping out of the woods, and after the day they spent sharing their histories, they began their courting in earnest. Yuuri still assisted Cookie in the galley, but he had a newfound joy in it; everything was exciting and new, and exploring new things through the food he made was thrilling in and of itself. Every night, he returned to the cabin and to his alpha, his mate, reviewing trajectories and mapping routes, sharing wine and the dinner he had made for the two of them. 

They were happy, and all was well.

The oils Viktor had selected complimented Yuuri’s natural scents with cherry and vanilla, and the same for the alpha, with sandalwood and citrus. The soaps were lightly scented with something like cedar, but they were really only for cleaning. The private spring they had chosen was specifically built for bonded pairs, as the baths were dedicated to the separate secondary genders, and Viktor had no intention of allowing anyone else to see his Yuuri in any state of undress. They had the bath entirely to themselves, coming at barely sunup. The lamplighter was still wandering around the square putting out the lamps. 

Viktor thought he might step into eternity when he watched Yuuri remove his collar. In their nearly two years together, never once had Viktor seen Yuuri absent from his collar.

"Yuuri…" Viktor breathed wetly, his throat dry. "You're beautiful." Yuuri's neck, fully bare, was one of the most tempting things he had ever seen, his scent glands lying just below his skin, a shade lighter than the rest of him. The sun had left its mark in Yuuri's skin and Viktor found himself intensely jealous of it.

"I trust you'll behave?" Yuuri asked pointedly, sliding into the spring with the ease of a python in the trees. 

"I wouldn't dare disobey an order from my Yuura." Viktor growled quietly, joining him in the bath, moaning with the sensation of it. How long had he gone without a proper bath?

"That's right, my love." Yuuri purred in Viktor's tongue, gliding into his lap and draping himself over his shoulders. 

Viktor spent more time than necessary lathering Yuuri’s skin with the soap, savoring the small noises and purrs that fell from his lips, scrubbing away at the stubborn dirt that had accumulated behind his ears and on the bottoms of his feet. Viktor held Yuuri's head in his lap to wash his hair, and he marveled at the way it flowed in the water like ink, spilling on a page or cream dispersing in coffee. 

Once the tangle of hair was combed and shining with the scented oils, Viktor showed Yuuri exactly how to tend to him as well, not suppressing the hardness between his legs as Yuuri combed through the sheet of silver hair. It had grown nearly to the crest of his rear, and he knew he would probably need to cut it soon. That was another thing he could teach Yuuri, along with the delicate task of shaving. Yuuri had no need for a razor, as his body hair only grew in soft and dark under his arms and between his legs.

“Love, would you humor me with something?” Viktor asked softly, nodding at the small bag of toiletries he had brought along.

“Hm?” Yuuri purred, running the comb through Viktor’s hair.

“Would you mind trimming my hair?” There was a shining pair of shears in among the things he had brought along, in hope. Yuuri hesitated, tentative. Viktor’s hair had always been his pride and joy— refusing to cut it even when it had been a disadvantage in a fight. 

"Are you sure?" Yuuri asked, tentative and anxious. "I wouldn't want to ruin it-"

"Love, if things go sideways, I'll visit the barber. I asked you because I'd like you to do it." Viktor crooned, rubbing his cheek against Yuuri's uncollared throat. "Just a little bit off the ends."

Yuuri bit his lower lip as he sat behind his mate, gently trimming the ends of Viktor's hair. It was beginning to curl ever-so-slightly as it dried, something Yuuri had never seen before.

"You should wash your hair more often, love." Yuuri teased, running his fingers through Viktor's silky locks. "I didn't know it was so wavy."

"Are you calling me dirty?" Viktor laughed softly, leaning back against Yuuri, letting his head fall backward into his lap. Viktor looked beautiful like this, a small smile on his lips and stars in his eyes. 

"Not that sort of dirty." Yuuri answered without a second thought, only to flush to the tips of his ears. 

They fought the urge to make love right there in the bath, as that would be incredibly rude to the staff, and Viktor had, unfortunately, already burned too many bridges in that manner. Clean and satisfied with the job they had done, they dried off and set about the rest of their errands. 

Viktor brought some clean clothes of his own for Yuuri, as his had recently been deemed “frighteningly inadequate” for the unofficial second-in-command of the Stammi Vicino, a title that Christophe had only mildly opposed.

His borrowed trousers were a bit long and needed to be rolled up, but surprisingly, the swell of Yuuri’s ass filled out the waist near perfectly. The shirt was far too big, but when Yuuri rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and tucked the front of it into the trousers, the beaming heart-shaped smile wouldn’t leave Viktor’s face. The shirt was, of course, much too large in the shoulders and it fell off in one direction or another; both of his shoulders were marked with dark love bites, and the sight of it made the alpha in Viktor croon with pride. 

Viktor was devilishly proud of the way his mate looked in his clothing, nearly swimming in them, and swimming in his scent. They braided each other’s hair in long ropes hanging between their shoulder blades, shared a chaste kiss before ducking out into the rain together.

Yuuri accompanied Viktor to the jeweler, and though Yuuri felt out of place among the precious stones and chains, Viktor was only able to admire the depth of Yuuri's eyes as they perused. The rows of jewelry gleamed beautifully in the flickering lamplight of the shop, but the only thing that caught Yuuri’s eye were a pair of solid gold bands, warm and bright in the morning light. It reminded him of the sunset they had shared after their long talk, and the memory had Yuuri's heart soaring. Viktor saw the shine in Yuuri’s eyes and bought them immediately.

Yuuri followed Viktor into a cigar shop, nearly choking on the overwhelming contrasted scents. He helped pick a new tobacco for his mate, who had tired of his mint and chocolate flavored smoke. Yuuri suggested a citrus and clove mix, imagining the way it would compliment Viktor’s scent. A chill ran down his spine as he smelled it deeply, the thought of Viktor’s warm skin against his, heady smoke floating around them… it was a dangerous combination to imagine in public. Viktor flushed as he smelled Yuuri’s excitement— and purchased their entire stock wrapped up in a brown paper package.

The two each bought a pair of new black leather boots, as Yuuri’s had long past worn out. His big toe was nearly peeking through the front of his right boot and the left had lost a chunk of its sole a month ago. 

“Seventy gold, such a bargain.” Yuuri teased, winking at Viktor, who pouted at the memory— at least Yuuri was able to make a joke of it in retrospect. The shopkeep recommended a matching satchel for Yuuri, of the same dark leather as his boots. Viktor laughed quietly, agreeing that, as the man had put it: his mate deserved the best.

The rain eased near midday, and the pair took the opportunity to take a walk through a small park in the city. The warmth of Viktor’s hand in his left Yuuri unable to stop smiling. 

Yuuri realized he had missed grass— grass. What a notion. He missed the way it smelled after rain. He wouldn’t trade his new life aboard the Stammi Vicino for anything, but Yuuri was happy to feel wet grass beneath his feet again. A heavenly smell wafted through the air, warm and hearty like cinnamon. Yuuri perked up at the delicious scent, his stomach growling embarrassingly loud.

“Yuura, are you hungry?” Viktor asked, to which Yuuri only nodded as he continued to follow the smell. The two finally found the source of the scent; a small merchant’s stall, peddling bags of toasted nuts. They were glazed with honey and sprinkled with cinnamon, and Yuuri’s mouth was watering for the sugary treat. 

Viktor smiled as he paid the man for a small bag to treat his hungry mate. The pair sat down on a bench, a strong arm wrapped around Yuuri’s back, long fingers pressing into the soft flesh of his hip. The omega purred happily as he popped a few of them into his mouth, a sinful moan of satisfaction rippling from his throat, and Viktor bit back a matching moan. A soft patter of rain derailed the moment before it came to fruition.

They dashed into a small bookstore to avoid the rain for a moment, but found themselves perusing the stacks anyway. Yuuri selected a few recipe books and a new poetry anthology, and Viktor picked one as well, along with a new volume of his favorite swordsman's trainer to give Yuuri.

He had recently taken up the sword, sparring with him and running drills on the deck. Viktor had to admit it was quite an arousing sight, Yuuri with a blade in his hands. Maybe a trip to the swordsmith would suit him, a weapon all his own instead of one of Viktor's old blades.

While waiting for his mate, Yuuri stumbled upon a beautifully dyed leather-bound journal— the color was such a dark blue it almost looked black in the darkness of the dimly lit shop. Viktor saw the sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes as he turned the soft leather over in his hands, beaming at him as he asked the shopkeep for a price.

“Free to the happy couple!” Came the cheery reply, as Viktor’s cheeks flushed with pride over being recognized as a couple, standing with his precious omega tucked so close to his chest. He placed a kiss at Yuuri’s hairline, the ebony gleam of his hair still lightly scented from their bath.

“Thank you miss!” Yuuri called, warmed down to his toes as he slid the book into his satchel along with the others. 

As they departed, Yuuri pulled his Viktor down for a kiss, basking in the warm, rumbly croon he received. It felt like heaven on earth, to be held and kissed, to be cherished the way Viktor cherished him. He could feel it in his touch, see it in his smile. Theirs was a difficult journey, but by the gods, it had been worth every moment. 

"I think I can manage the last errand if you’d like to have a drink at the tavern," Yuuri said quietly, rocking back onto his heels. The tailor's was the last stop, and the idea of surprising Viktor was far too enticing to ignore. "Allow me to treat you? Please, Vitya?”

The diminutive warmed Viktor to his core, the way it rolled off Yuuri’s tongue so naturally. It would seem that the gods themselves intended Yuuri to spend the rest of his life saying it. 

Viktor relented, tucking a small pouch of coins into Yuuri’s new satchel to purchase his new clothes. He insisted on walking Yuuri to the tailor before turning to cross the street to the tavern. Yuuri watched as Viktor strode into the establishment and took a seat near the hearth; Yuuri loved how his mate looked in the warm light of the fireplace.

With a smile curling at his lips, Yuuri turned and walked into the tailor’s shop, greeted by many wonderful patterns and shades of fabric, bolts of it stacked up to the ceiling in some places. The tailor greeted him, and was immediately ushering him into a fitting room. Yuuri had never experienced such luxury, a master creating new clothing just for him. He liked the small noises the man made, marking small chalk lines on the garments, making tiny adjustments here and there. It was soothing to be taken care of in that way.

“Your mate must love you very much, child.” The tailor said, breaking the comfortable silence Yuuri had been enjoying.

“Ah, yes. He does. He takes very good care of me.” Yuuri was caught off-guard by the man addressing him directly. He had become used to being overlooked. He didn’t mind it one bit, he was just pleased to be strolling through the city on Viktor’s arm, knowing he was the center of his alpha’s world, even if he was overlooked by every single passerby.

A little while later, Yuuri emerged from the fitting room armed with three new pairs of well-fit trousers and three new cotton shirts, all the same shade of midnight blue. The trousers clung to all of Yuuri’s curves, his plush thighs, the curved swell of his rear, lacing tightly around his calves, where the pants dipped into his new boots. He adored the way the soft fabric of the shirts danced across his skin, outlining his shoulders and dipping just below his clavicles in the front. The shirts laced like his trousers, and when pulled tight, sat just below the dip of his collarbones. When left loose, the middle of the shirt fell open, revealing the span of his chest. 

He felt regal in them, and adding a warm, woolen cloak to the pile emptied his coinpurse completely— but he was more than happy to step into the street, dressed in his new clothes.

Donning his new cloak, Yuuri darted across the slick cobblestones toward the tavern, warm light pouring into the street. His packages nearly fell out of his hands as he was bumped by a passerby exiting the tavern. He stumbled only slightly, catching his balance before he tumbled to the ground. The man barely offered an apology and Yuuri offered him a kind smile; he collected himself and stepped over the threshold of the tavern.

His Vitya was sitting in his seat by the hearth, his eyebrows pinched in the middle of his brow as a younger man, slight and blonde, stood beside him. The young man was shouting, his hackles raised with a fist balled in Viktor’s shirt. The stench of anger hung heavy in the humid air of the bar, and Yuuri felt an uncomfortable kind of apprehension as he stepped in out of the rain. 

"Well, Captain? Can I have my job back, now that you've replaced him?" the blonde man demanded, his teeth bared in a clear threat. Yuuri recoiled at the tone, wincing at the snarl on Viktor’s lips. He was frozen in place, clinging to the strap of his satchel in the doorway.

“That isn’t what this is.” Viktor snapped in reply, pulling himself free of the young man’s grasp. “You clearly don’t understand.” Yuuri swallowed his fear and pushed forward, weaving between tables. The shouting grew louder as he moved, his ears ringing with the clamor of the young man’s voice. 

“Isn’t it?!” the blonde growled, a loud, angry sound that belied a shade of pain. “I don’t understand?”

“Yuri.” A man interrupted, setting his hand on this Yuri’s shoulder, though Yuri wrenched himself free. His long blonde braid snapped like a whip in the air. 

“Stay out of this, Beka.” Yuri warned, a dark thing that made Yuuri falter in his step. “This is between Viktor and me.” 

“What happened last time? Don’t you remember what happened?” Yuri snarled, his teeth bared. “Or am I the only one who remembers that burial at sea?”

“That’s enough, Yura.” Viktor bellowed, using the commanding tone he used at the helm. His jaw was clenched, the last cord of his patience threatening to snap. Yuuri could smell it on him, thick and heavy, oppressive and impossible to ignore. 

“Or what? You’ll just end my contract and send me away again?” Yuri snapped again, standing on his toes though his nose barely reached Viktor’s chest. “Like you did after Andrei died?”

The silence that fell on the party was that of the dead— and Yuuri’s stomach dropped to the floor. A low growl ripped through the air as Viktor pushed Yuri back, the gathering haze of rage growing on Viktor’s features. His lips pulled back in a brutal snarl, belying the seething heat Yuuri could already sense in his mate. 

“Keep his name out of your mouth, Yurochka.” The weight of an alpha command struck like a tidal wave, even compelling Yuuri despite the target clearly being Yuri; as he drew closer Yuuri could smell the clash of warring alphas, the sharp, bitter tang of Yuri’s scent pushing against Viktor’s unwavering cedar. It burned Yuuri’s nose as he stepped between them, setting a hand on his mate’s chest. 

“Vitya.” Yuuri whispered the endearment below the rumble of his mate’s growl. “Breathe.”

“You’re the new one, huh?” Yuri laughed, dry and sardonic. “Where’d he find you? Dockside like me? Or in the boarding house like the rest of them?”

Yuuri braced himself against the insult, but still felt the sting. “A tavern, actually.”

“A pitcher whore then.” 

Viktor snarled, a guttural, primal noise that had Yuuri wincing. “Call him a whore again, Yurochka. Call him a whore one more time.”

“This one’s better than he was, is he?” Yuri barked a laugh, pushing Yuuri’s shoulder and forcing him to turn. “You think you’re special?” Yuri asked, his face twisted into an awful grimace. “You think you’re the one to break his pattern? He’ll abandon you as soon as you’re done being useful. He’ll cut you off and leave you to fend for yourself.”

Yuuri stepped back, the bile in Yuri’s voice nearly too much. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Yuri laughed, a dry bark of a thing. “I wasn’t useful enough to justify the risk. Didn’t love me enough. I wasn’t good enough to be called back. But you were.”

“We aren’t the same.” Yuuri stood his ground, watching Viktor’s shoulders grow tense, smelling the heat, the anger pouring off his skin. “You’re clearly mistaken.”

“You really need your glasses, huh?” Yuri laughed again. “Either Captain here doesn’t love you as much as he says he does, or I’m poison to the crew, and I’m not worth the risk. Didn’t stop him from having fucking mutineers aboard, though. Didn’t they try to kill you, piggy?”

Yuuri’s mouth fell agape, nearly shocked into silence. “How dare you?”

“He replaced Andrei with you. You’re nothing but a fucking liability.” Yuri spat, looking up at Yuuri through his messy fringe. “How many has he had to kill for you? One? Two? Five?”

“Shut up. You don’t know anything.” Yuuri pulled in quick, shaky breaths, his chest heaving. He felt Viktor’s hand on his shoulder, but the comfort felt wrong.

Yuri snorted a laugh. “Sure I don’t. Maybe I don’t get it because I haven’t fucked him.”

“That’s enough!” Yuuri shouted, his hands shaking at his sides. He heard Viktor try to soothe him, a snarled comment in Yuri’s direction. “Sort this out, Vitya.” he snapped, feeling flayed open in the worst way. There was a gnarled, ugly expression twisting his features as he turned up his hood. Viktor reached for him, the beginning of an apology lodged in his throat. “No. I’m going back, alone. Don’t follow until you’ve figured this out.”

"Yuuri, wait," Viktor pleaded, but he continued on; he turned heel with fire in his veins, tears stinging his eyes. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. Not after all Viktor had said, all he had done. Phichit would know, and Chris. They were still aboard, they would help him fill in the gaps. Who was Yuri, how did he know all these things? Why hadn’t Viktor intervened sooner?

Yuuri felt his ribs ache as he walked, holding his cloak close to his body. He felt heavy and clumsy with his packages, the corner of one paper parcel growing wet with the rain. An exasperated sigh ripped through him as he shifted his things in his arms, dropping his books into a puddle on the cobbles. 

The sky was dark and clouded now, rain quickly spattered on his glasses, obscuring the painted street signs. He gathered his books, now soggy and though he prayed for the opposite, most likely with smeared ink and turned back in the direction he had come. 

Rain began to fall in sheets, heavy and utterly drenching. Yuuri narrowly avoided another body walking down the way and a familiar scent began to rise in the humid air. It burned his nose and throat in the worst way, thick and smoky in his lungs.

Every drop of his blood ran cold and he froze, tensing with the weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder.

_ No _ .

"If it isn't  _ my _ Yuuri."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool guys don't look back at explosions so i'm just going to hide 
> 
> (please leave comments if you want to though, i thrive on your comments)
> 
> <3 ia


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri faces his past, Viktor asks him a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence, attempted forced bonding and minor character death.

“Hisashi-” Yuuri breathed, his breath rattling in his chest. An endless chorus of _no no no no_ echoed in his head, his eyes darted around the street, looking for an exit, an escape, anything. “Don’t, don’t come any closer.” he warned, but a protest had never meant anything before. 

Hisashi quickly had him against the cold brick, his packages thrown to the cobbles.

“I’ve been looking for you, Yuuri.” His breath reeked of beer, his hazy eyes were glassy and unfocused. Yuuri thrashed in his hold, reaching down for the blade in his boot.

Hisashi laughed, batting his hand away, pinning his wrist to the brick. Yuuri's skin crawled when hazy black eyes locked onto his. 

"I just want to _talk_ ," Hisashi drawled, pulling a deep inhale from Yuuri's throat. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter."

Yuuri hissed, thrashing in his hold. "I'm not going anywhere," he swore, wrenching his arm free only long enough for his attacker to twist it inward behind his back. 

"Enough." Hisashi snapped, the weight of an alpha command on his tongue. Yuuri flinched, still feeling that tug, that demanding pull that his mate had once exerted so frivolously. "Still so obedient. You haven't changed, Yuuri."

He laughed a low, gravelly laugh and Yuuri's panic swirled over itself in crashing waves, like the stormy seas they’d ridden out below deck so many times. Despair clutched at his heart, pulling him down like an anchor.

He was going to die here, in the dusty alleyway Hisashi pushed him through, or worse— his former mate would finally claim him, after all the pain he had forced Yuuri to endure. He would lose Viktor. He had told Viktor not to follow— would Viktor even know what had happened? Or would he simply disappear into the night, leaving Viktor to mourn another mate? 

“How did you find me?” Yuuri asked, his voice shakier than he would have preferred. With his arm twisted painfully behind his back, Hisashi had every advantage. Yuuri could barely see down the dark alleyway ahead of him, and quickly lost track of the serpentine twists and turns he was led through. 

He could almost feel the way Hisashi laughed, the image of his mouth curled into an awful smile and a pang of something ugly and cold settled in Yuuri’s stomach.

“Just a coincidence. Been missing you.” he answered, pushing in closer. He had Yuuri backed into a corner, quickly turned him around to face the man he had only recently escaped in his nightmares. "Such pretty clothes you've got now." Hisashi murmured, his wretched breath pouring over Yuuri in an awful attempt to scent him. "Find someone else to lie to? Some rich, ponce alpha trying to knock up that broken womb of yours?"

Every demeaning word the man had said to him rushed back, the insults he had spat at his feet, the abuse. The smirk on Hisashi’s mouth said more than his words could. He expected Yuuri to crumble. Hisashi was counting on Yuuri to let himself wilt, to be anxious and docile, like he had before, when his survival depended on his mate’s happiness.

“Nothing to say? You haven’t changed at all, Yuuri.” Hisashi chuckled, low and gravelly in his throat. “You smell good when you’re scared.” 

Yuuri's stomach turned. The insult, the ugly hatred of omegas… all of it had him hissing. His scent betrayed the fear lingering in his chest, but like hell would he let his instincts dictate anything now, even if his scent confirmed it. His scent doesn't tell the whole story. He could smell plainly how scared he was, and surely Hisashi could too, but it wouldn’t betray how brave he had become. 

"Shut up." Yuuri's lip curled back in a snarl. He knew the resistance wouldn’t mean much, it hadn’t before. But Yuuri would never be just his instincts— never again. “Get away from me.”

“Did someone teach you to bite, Yuuri?” Hisashi laughed, his tone a cloying mockery of compassion. “We both know you can’t lie to me.” Nothing had ever been so clear as this, Hisashi didn’t think he would fight. 

His former mate was pushing too close, his breath ghosting over his throat. He felt it then, he realized what he had forgotten that morning. His collar was gone. 

“Stop.” Yuuri hissed, baring his teeth and spitting. “Don’t you dare—”

“You’re making this much harder than it needs to be, insolent whore.” Hisashi growled, clapping a hand over Yuuri’s mouth and shoving his head to the side, exposing his throat.   
  


*  
  


“Are you happy, Yura?” Viktor groaned, pulling himself away from Yuri and toward the door. A small group of sailors were smoking just outside, huddled under an awning. “Proud of yourself?”

“Like hell are you walking away from me _again_ , old man.” Yuri snapped from across the tavern, but Viktor didn’t slow a single step. Something prickled at the base of his neck, the tiniest hint of Yuuri’s distressed scent floated in through the open doors. 

Viktor recognized the scent— he would know it anywhere. _Yuuri._

“Did you fucking hear me?” Yuri shouted, his voice cracking with a slurry of Northern curses. 

It wasn’t until Viktor stepped out into the rainy night that he smelled it in earnest— the heat and humidity amplified it tenfold. It smelled like Yuuri, like he was crying. Viktor’s heart jumped up into his throat as he caught the trail and set out following it.

Yuri landed a demanding kick to the small of Viktor’s back, but Viktor quickly stepped out of his path. “Fuck you, you can’t leave me again.” 

“You can smell him, can’t you?” Viktor barked in reply, feeling his hackles raise with every step into the night. “It’s not right to let my mate be alone like this.”

Yuri groaned a quick slurry of Northern complaints. “Fine, whatever.” He bit, falling into step beside Viktor. “Find your crying mate. But he told you to sort your shit out before going after him.”

"I'll be honest, I can't focus on much when I know he's this upset." Viktor answered, much more attentive to the wispy trail of Yuuri’s tart cherry scent. The sour tint weighed on his shoulders heavily, and Yuri’s throaty growl didn’t help things. 

“Not gonna apologize?” Yuri snapped after a while, “You left me with nothing and you’re just gonna pick up like nothing happened?”

“I left you with a year’s wage, Yura.” Viktor interjected, though he could barely spare Yuri a second thought, not with Yuuri’s trace vanishing every few yards. “You had Otabek. I’d hardly call that nothing.”

“It’s not about the gold. Idiot.” Yuri clicked his tongue. “Why didn’t you-” he began, groaning and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You needed me.”

Viktor sighed, shaking his head slowly. “It wasn’t safe for you. I had to make sure you weren’t in danger.”

“So you decided you’d abandon me instead?!” Yuri shouted, his voice echoing off the brick around them. “Great logic, Captain. Fucking brilliant mind you’ve got.”

“Please, Yura, now isn’t the time for this.” Viktor pleaded, feeling his heart lurch into his mouth.

Yuuri’s books, his satchel, lay scattered in the gutter. His scent clung to the water-logged leather. It had soaked into the brick. Yuuri wasn’t simply upset. He was terrified. His chest began to heave, his shoulders rocking with the effort of it. There was another scent, something burning and pungent that had Viktor’s alpha barrelling to the front.

Another alpha. 

Yuri’s voice trailed off as he caught it too. “I… Viktor, I didn’t-” Yuri stammered, his blonde brows furrowed in the middle. “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Stop. I know you didn’t. Get back to the ship. Get Christophe. Follow his scent when you catch it again.” Viktor ordered, that same awful chill settling into his bones. “Yuuri is _somewhere_ and he needs us.”

Yuri froze, his wide green eyes belied his conflicting anger and sympathy, in that particularly Yuri way. He set his jaw and nodded, sprinting for the docks with Otabek on his heels. Every ounce of drink threatened to reappear as Viktor set off running, following his nose through the empty streets. His alpha was growling, angry and distressed— every time Viktor reached into his mind, he found that same empty place where Yuuri should have been. Where their bond should be. 

Other scents threatened to occlude Yuuri’s, flowery, verdant scents, sharp spiced ones— left in thin, wispy trails along the street. Viktor let out a frustrated growl when a burst of something strong and minty disrupted the trail. A group of newly presented teens walked four-wide across the street, and Viktor did his best not to knock them to the ground as he shoved past them.

He had to find Yuuri, he _had_ to. There wasn’t a second option. His heart hammered in his throat when he caught Yuuri’s scent again, that cherry muddled with something disgusting and smoky, threatening to cloud out Yuuri altogether. His alpha began to spiral again, that sinking feeling he had felt in part during that raid. He abandoned Yuuri to feel alone and scared when he could have been with him. He should have been with him. 

_No bond, no Yuuri. Yuuri is gone. Yuuri is dead._

It echoed in a relentless mantra, tugging at Viktor’s chest, his throat, threatening to tear him apart entirely. If he hadn’t been so afraid, a warm tug might have met his call when he searched for that bond. It would have been worth it to be there. Even if he had to feel him die. He could have felt the fear sooner, instead of chasing his trail like a lost pup. 

His stomach sank as soon as the thought appeared. What if he was already too late?

_“I’m sorry, gods, I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”_

A strained, ragged sob ripped through him and he pushed on. It was his fault that Yuuri was in danger, that he couldn’t be there with him. His mind swam with awful thoughts of Yuuri, of what was causing his scent to run so sour; would he be able to stomach it? A despondent whine bubbled out of his chest as the realization took form: 

Losing Yuuri would destroy him regardless of how he experienced it— his death wouldn’t hurt less than feeling him die through the bond. He would lose himself either way.

A grotesque howl echoed through an alleyway to the left, and Viktor followed the sound. Yuuri was guiding him there. There was a young couple lingering in the road, and Viktor had no qualms about dividing them to follow the sound— even when a volley of shouted curses followed after him through the narrow alley.

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to beat out of his ribs as he ran, his feet pounding against the slick cobbles. Yuuri’s scent stung his nose, screaming silently for his alpha, and he saw him— pinned between a brick wall and a taller figure. 

He spoke before he could stop himself, a bellowed shout of Yuuri’s name. 

“Yuuri!”

*  
  


_Deep breaths. Count them, Yuura._

He heard Viktor’s voice call to him from his memory, and Yuuri forced his way through the fog of his omega’s panic. Three shaky breaths of the warm, damp air pulled Yuuri back to himself, back to the moment. Cold pavement beneath his feet, wet brick was soaking through his cloak, Hisashi’s hands pressing him against the wall.

Yuuri saw himself in Hisashi’s eyes— the reflection of a pitiful omega, submissive and pliant. Yuuri was still his obedient mate, his scent confirming every demeaning thought in his mind. How could Yuuri have changed, how could he have grown out of the man he had been before? How could Hisashi have expected him to be different, to be so much stronger? He had made Yuuri into a waifish, trembling omega.

But Viktor made him strong. Christophe made him strong. He had made himself strong— forged himself a new life, found new love, found new strength to fight. And if Hisashi underestimated him, Yuuri would prove him wrong.

Hisashi’s hand slipped just right and he bit down, breaking the skin. Yuuri’s stomach wrenched at the sound of it, but it had its intended purpose. Hisashi howled, a sharp sound that, he prayed, alerted _someone_ to his location. 

Yuuri surged forward, slipping under his arm and out of his grasp. Hisashi growled, low and angry as he whirled around to face Yuuri again. His eyes looked wild, barely a sliver of brown showed around the bottomless black of his pupils. He was holding his left hand to his chest, cradling it delicately. He laughed, a dark, deranged thing that made Yuuri shiver.

“Yuuri!” 

_Viktor._

The sound of Viktor’s voice, knowing he was there, gave him the strength he needed. Hisashi lunged at him, bloody hand outstretched. Yuuri pulled his knee up, connecting with his attacker’s groin, sending him reeling back again. A deft hand slid into his boot, pulling the knife he had remembered to store there, the knife Viktor had given him. 

Hisashi bent double, wheezing ugly, ragged breaths, but Yuuri didn’t stop. His grappling practice rushed back in full-force and it felt as natural as breathing. The heel of his unarmed hand pushed into Hisashi’s nose, breaking it with a gruesome crunch.

Hisashi let out another inhuman howl as he fumbled back, a loose cobblestone catching his boot. He landed with a choked grunt, flat on his back. Yuuri was quick to pin him down, the flat of his unsheathed dagger pressed against the hollow of his monster’s throat. 

“You took so much from me.” Yuuri heard himself growl, his voice lower, darker than it had been before. He could still feel Hisashi’s dismissal in the way he shifted beneath him, as if this was a game, some good-natured fun.

“Oh Yuuri.” Hisashi breathed a tight laugh, his voice harsh and labored. “Did you forget what you promised when you swore your vows?”

“Don’t you dare hold me to those words.” Yuuri spat, turning his wrist to let a thin line of blood bead up against his blade. “You didn’t keep your vows. You broke any agreement we had the first time you laid hands on me.”

Hisashi’s laugh died in his throat— scanning Yuuri’s features for some hint of a lie, surely. The disbelief was still clear on his face. “Are you going to kill me? For taking what was rightfully mine as your alpha?” 

“You aren’t my alpha.” Yuuri answered, “You never were.” Yuuri was stronger than he had been before. Hisashi was larger, stronger… had the brute force of an alpha. But Yuuri was quicker, he always had been. Life at sea had honed him, made him smarter.

Hisashi roared, lurching forward.

Yuuri didn’t hesitate; he pressed his lips firmly together and let his arm move on instinct. His blade met resistance, a warm burst running down his arm, soaking through to his skin. Hisashi’s voice was nothing more than a wet, garbled mess. There was a horrible rasping sound, ragged panting and gagging, choking. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor’s shout reached his ears again. He blinked, watching the bloody scene unfold in front of him in blurred vignettes. A monster lay dying, clawing at his own throat— and Yuuri held the weapon that had rended that flesh. There was blood on his hands. 

His body fell with an empty thud, the water beneath him running red.

Yuuri took shaky steps backward, running into a wall of warmth— Viktor quickly wrapped his arms around him from behind and held him tight against his chest. His blade clattered to the stones below, the blood it bore staining the brick dark red. Yuuri’s breaths came in stuttered gasps, short and sharp. His vision blurred, threatened to go dark.

“I killed him. I— he’s dead,” Yuuri whispered, shaking. His hands were slick with blood, his new cloak was soaked with it. He felt his stomach lurching as Viktor pulled him away from the crumpled form on the ground.

“He is.” Viktor said simply, peeling him out of his wet cloak and tucking him into his own coat. “You’re alright, I promise, we need to get you aboard.”

Yuuri retched, his stomach emptying without his control. Viktor held him, running a soothing hand down the length of his spine. He said comforting words, but Yuuri didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, the awful, soul-rending sound of a life ending. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tears stinging his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have run, shouldn’t have gone without you-”

“Don’t. Yuuri, don’t apologize for this.”

Rushed footsteps echoed in the alley, a sharp volley of whistles. Viktor’s voice, commanding and protective, the sounds of his own shaking voice, blood still smearing his palms. Yuuri didn’t remember much after that. 

* * *

When morning came, Viktor’s head was pounding. He had definitely had too much to drink, even without the stress of Yuri, of what Yuuri had survived… Viktor cursed the serving girl, for recommending he put rum in his mead. 

A bone-deep chill ran down his spine as he rolled onto his side slowly, seeing the ghost of exhaustion shadowing Yuuri’s features. It was no surprise he went into drop after that, after surviving _that_. An angry tear squeezed out from Viktor’s eye— he should have been there to defend him, to protect him, instead of dealing with the aftermath of another abandoned loved one. 

How many times had he abandoned someone to protect them? How long had it taken him to recognize that? He pushed himself out of bed gently, knowing Yuuri needed his rest more than anything, after the disaster Viktor had wreaked on his life. Again. 

He found himself wandering down the ladders to the galley, quite purposefully avoiding the first mate’s cabin. He knew Christophe would have choice words for him, and his mate as well, for what he had done. 

Seeing Yuri aboard the _Stammi_ again felt strange, despite how easily he had reclaimed his old bunk, carved out his own place among the crew again. It had been less than six hours and Yuri was already at home again… and it felt odd. Yuri refused to meet his eye as they passed, instead choosing to check him with his shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

“Yura-” Viktor began, but Yuri clicked his tongue to interrupt.

“Take care of him first.” His voice betrayed the guilt they both felt. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you.” Viktor managed, intimately aware of the way his own voice shook. Yuri grumbled something unintelligible and made his exit known with stomping feet, leaving Viktor in the passageway. He followed his nose to the belly of the ship, finding Cookie at the stove. With a soft knock on the doorframe, he announced his presence; Cookie looked up from his task, meeting his eye before nodding a head toward the table. There was his tray, two breakfasts plated and two cups of coffee.

“‘Ow is he?” Cookie asked brusquely, though Viktor expected nothing less. 

“He’s resting now. Recovering, hopefully.” Viktor added softly, the ache suddenly new and awful. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Viktor’s voice was quiet, shaken.

Cookie set his knife down, an act Viktor was distantly thankful for. “Y’know, Cap’n. I reckon tha’s on ‘im ta decide.” Those heavy, judging eyes bore down on him, arms folded over his barrel chest. “Sure as hell ye’ve got some ‘splaining ta do. Can’t expect ‘im to know who the Kitten is wit’out help.”

“The things Yuri said… gods, I’ve never heard him so angry.” Viktor sighed, rubbing the base of his neck. “We both owe him apologies. At the very minimum.”

“Have ta say I agree. Say nothin’ o what happened with all that blood.” Cookie grunted, turning back to his task at the stove. “Get on now, make sure ya feed ‘im.” Viktor nodded in assent, hoisting the tray over his shoulder like he’d seen Yuuri do before. It was surprisingly heavy— Yuuri made this look like nothing. “Heavy, ain’t it?”

“Heavier than I expected.” Viktor answered, feeling more than a little embarrassed. 

“Carry it in front of ya. Both arms. That’s how Yuuri started.” Cookie advised, trying to swallow a laugh.

“How am I supposed to open doors with both my arms full?” Viktor asked, his frustration showing plain. Cookie barked a laugh then, and Viktor felt himself laugh too, despite himself. 

“I guess you’ll jus’ hafta ask Yuuri for advice, Cap’n. I think ‘e uses his hips.” Viktor blushed, remembering how Yuuri had nudged doors open with his hips and thighs, catching a swinging door with the toe of his boot. It had been mesmerizing, even arousing. Now he fully understood the feat his mate had been undertaking, multiple times a day, since the day he left land.

Viktor bit his lip, setting his pride aside. His alpha had been complaining at the distance between himself and Yuuri since he left the bed. Shifting the weight of the tray from his shoulder to his front, he pushed through the embarrassment, making way for the deck.

He turned sideways to make it through the galley door without spilling the coffee, a simple success was a success regardless. He flinched at the sight of the first ladder, the steep steps looked insurmountable. Even his tasks on the cargo ship hadn’t been this precarious. He found his stride on the second ladder, balancing the tray ever-so-slightly against the jut of his hip bones. He carried the load proudly by the time he reached the deck, the morning air was crisp and fresh against his skin.

He gently opened the cabin door, finding Yuuri still asleep. Once the table was set to the best his memory served, he sat back down in the bed, gently nuzzling at his mate.

“Yuuri,” Viktor crooned and kissed his temple as Yuuri turned his head into the contact. “Good morning, love.” A small puff of air came from his nose, accompanied by the quiet moan of pain. 

“Vitya… g’morning.” Yuuri could barely muster the strength to greet his mate. It hurt. Blinding pain shot through Yuuri’s skull, ricocheting off the backs of his eyes. He didn’t usually drop outside of the end of his heat, but after the previous night, it made sense that he would have a splitting headache.

“How are you feeling, love?” Viktor asked quietly.

“Hurts to talk.” Yuuri answered, hoping he didn’t sound too curt. Everything hurt. The sunlight coming through the windows, the rush of the waves mirrored the rush of blood in his ears. His head felt leaden and heavy, aching deep to the bone.

“I'm so sorry, Yuura. I'm so sorry that I did this to you… that I caused your drop. I want to throw myself off this damned boat after what happened last night.”

Yuuri took Viktor's hand, his thumb running over calloused knuckles. He raised one finger to the center of his lips, bidding his mate to be quiet. The ringing in his ears was too much, as much as it hurt Yuuri to dismiss his apology like that. Viktor bit his tongue, forcing his apologies down. 

Viktor mimed the action of eating at Yuuri, trying to phrase the action as a question by drawing a question mark in the air. Yuuri laughed, sending a wave of pain through his skull again. He mouthed ‘please’. Viktor smiled and rose from the bed, fetching the tray to feed his mate in bed. Viktor’s alpha crooned happily as he tended to Yuuri. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the domesticity of it all, of quiet evenings reading, of lazy lovemaking, the softness of Yuuri’s sleeping face greeting his own every morning. And he loved it. He was finally making progress in healing from the loss of his first love, and he was truly happy for the first time in years.

He spoon-fed Yuuri a bowl of oat mash with honey, adoring the way Yuuri’s little pink tongue darted out to lick his lips after every bite; Viktor’s alpha was soaring. Yuuri was purring and warm, and if not for the pain tinting Yuuri’s usual light cherry scent sour.

Yuuri slept through most of the day, Viktor waking him every now and then to ask him if he needed anything. (This was admittedly for Viktor’s benefit, but Yuuri had decided it was exceedingly sweet either way.) He would smile and shake his head slightly, the pain in his head easing as the day dragged on. Viktor didn’t stray too far from the cabin, his instinct keeping him tethered to the omega. Viktor wanted to be there the moment Yuuri was ready to talk about what happened the night before. He tried to pass the time reading, writing, charting, planning, anything. But it all drew him back to his muse, gently snoring in the bed behind him.

Hours passed as Yuuri dozed and Viktor grew restless. The alpha picked up the leather-bound book Yuuri had left on his bedside table, a Northern book of poetry. Viktor flipped through the first few pieces, recognizing a few of them as the ones Yuuri had been practicing reading aloud. A dog-eared corner caught Viktor’s finger as he paged through the book, Yuuri’s doing. Maybe he would like a bookmark, Viktor considered momentarily as his eyes scanned the page, Yuuri might like if he wrote him a love note. In gold ink, of course… gold like the sunshine in his eyes, gold like the rings. 

That would certainly work. 

Yuuri was finally well enough to sit up and speak around suppertime, the ringing in his ears and throbbing in his head dulling a bit. Phichit had helped Viktor concoct a painkiller in the sickbay, as well as a soothing salve with mint. The interaction was certainly tense, as word had quickly spread of the previous night’s commotion… Phichit’s silver eyes were intense and evaluating as they worked, and he passed the powdery medicine to the Captain. 

“I hope you sort this out, Captain.” Phichit warned, “My clickmate deserves the world.” 

Viktor’s heart soared— of course his mate had formed such a bond with Phichit, the sort of bond omegas were known to make in a pack. Even though it had been a threat, Viktor couldn’t help but feel pride in his Yuuri. 

“Yuuri does,” Viktor agreed, tucking the sachet of medicine away. “I’ll make it right, I swear.”

Phichit smiled, nodding firmly at him. “Good.” Was his simple reply before he shooed Viktor out of his medbay— the former dancer-turned surgeon’s assistant was the godsend the crew didn’t know they had been missing.

Into a pot of tea delivered by Cookie, Viktor stirred in a healthy dose of the medicine, serving it to his love, who was propped up in bed like a king— a mountain of pillows supporting his head and neck. He was the perfect image of regal, too, his teacup held gently in his hand, his glasses tucked into the neck of his sleep shirt. 

“Yuura?” Viktor began gently, scared to continue.

“Vitya?” Yuuri murmured quietly, still trying to ease the pain in his head a bit. The attempt at teasing made Viktor smile, for a moment. His lips pressed together tight, pushing back against the slight tremble in his cheeks. The mask fell and a wet, messy sigh fell from his mouth. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” Viktor whispered, his eyes squeezed tight. He knew tears were seeping through, but he couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. “I shouldn’t have let you go on your own, I should have stayed with you.”

Yuuri smiled, a lopsided, sympathetic thing. “I told you not to, and you respected that.”

“But respecting that left you with him. Unprotected. He could have—”

“But he didn’t. Because of what you and Christophe have taught me.” Yuuri interrupted, firm. “Because of what I’ve learned since leaving home.”

“You had to defend yourself. Yuuri, I should have done that.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fight.” The calm in Yuuri’s voice made Viktor ache, deep into his bones. “Hisashi wasn’t your monster to defeat. He was mine.” Viktor’s hands tightened into fists, white-knuckled, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the confidence you’ve helped me gain.”

Tears spilled in earnest then, pressing through Viktor’s closed lids. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you. I couldn’t feel you, I couldn’t hear you…” Viktor choked, running his hand over the faint silvery scar on his throat, the one that had torn through his bond mark on that awful day. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Neither am I.” Yuuri swiped away the tears as they came, praying that his comfort was enough. “I was scared. But I knew you would find me. When Hisashi had me pinned, I panicked. I thought I was going to lose you, that I wouldn’t see you again, or be able to say goodbye. But I heard your voice in my mind, reminding me to breathe. And I felt like I was in control for the first time.” Yuuri’s voice was tired, the sound of it ringing in his ears. “Even if you weren’t there, I could feel you with me.”

“Oh, love…” Viktor breathed, his heart throbbing. “Watching you hold your own… it was like nothing I had seen before. Absolutely beautiful.”

Yuuri gave him a pointed look, a small smile on his mouth to warn him against a compliment. 

“I’ve never taken someone’s life before.”

“The first is difficult,” Viktor nodded, sliding in closer to Yuuri’s side. “What do you need from me right now, love?”

“Hold me.” Yuuri answered with confidence, and Viktor gladly obliged, pressing a flurry of kisses to the crown of Yuuri’s head, letting his mate lead the way. They stayed there for a while, listening to the creak of the ship below them, rocking gently. They hadn’t left port, though Viktor suspected they would need to shove off soon… the deal he had struck with local authorities after Yuuri’s assault required them to leave as soon as they were able. 

A good deal, all things considered. 

“Vitya?” Yuuri asked after a while. “About Yuri.”

“I suppose I owe you an explanation?” Viktor asked, his throat tight. Yuuri nodded and drank from his glass again, pushing his hair back into a messy knot at the crown of his head. Fine tendrils hung around his face, framing his features beautifully. He looked tired, but even exhausted, Yuuri was beautiful. 

“I’d certainly enjoy learning about the young man bold enough to berate a complete stranger.” Yuuri added dryly, laughing at his own joke. Viktor managed a small laugh too before leaning in for an indulgent kiss. “Tell me who Yuri is?”

Viktor pushed out a heavy breath as years of memories returned to him, the ones he had repressed for so long. Whether for self-preservation or Yuri’s own good, he wasn’t sure.

“Yuri was… _is_ , I suppose, like a younger brother to me. We lived together, after my father passed on. He was a ward— abandoned by his mother as a child.” Yuri had always been forced to prove his worth, from that first day. “I always thought he hated me. But when he was old enough to leave the home, he followed me.”

Viktor remembered that day with razor-sharp clarity, a rail-thin Yuri pulling him into an alley and holding a dull blade to his stomach. 

_Let me join you or I’ll gut you right here._

He had only just presented, his voice still cracking with the weight of puberty. Yuri was a feral kitten among scraggly tom cats, snapping at everyone’s heels without discriminating. Viktor found it much more endearing than the rest of the crew did, and even under Andrei’s swordsmanship tutelage, Yuri still favored a dagger above anything else. 

“Andrei and I watched out for him. He tended to attract trouble, but every challenge was worth it.” Viktor continued, rubbing Yuuri’s knuckles carefully. “After Andrei died, I couldn’t let him stay. I couldn’t keep letting him endanger himself. I ended his contract and left him at port with Otabek.”

Yuuri nodded, letting him explain without interruption.

“I know why I did it now, why I kept leaving people behind.” Viktor’s chest ached with the realization, the words weighed heavy on his tongue. “I only ever learned to love by letting go… love was a risk, especially after losing Andrei. I abandoned Yuri, I abandoned _you_ , when you first came aboard…”

“We all learn to cope in our own ways,” Yuuri assured him, cupping his jaw with a tender hand. “Your life was full of loss, and while you were still so young.”

“Yuri… was furious last night. He saw my bringing you on as an insult, because I had sent him away. Because I... found someone I loved ‘enough’ after Andrei. But didn’t ask him to come back.” Viktor sighed, the apology clear in his eyes. “I’m sorry he displaced his anger for me to you. I have some apology rounds to make, but yours is by far the most important to me, Yuuri. I’m so sorry. Will you please forgive me, Yuura? My love? My guiding light?” 

“Of course I will, Vitya. Would you get me some water? Please?” He asked, his throat painfully dry, and gestured to his throat to indicate he was in pain. Viktor scrambled to fulfill the request, returning to his mate’s bedside in record time. 

“Sit with me?” Yuuri spoke gently, almost a whisper.

Viktor stood and rounded the bed, sitting to lean against the oak headboard with Yuuri. He placed his right hand on Yuuri’s thigh, a reassuring touch to his feverish flesh.

“May I kiss you?” Viktor whispered, matching the volume of his mate. Yuuri poked his own cheek with one finger, to say ‘here, please’. Viktor gladly obliged, a chaste kiss planted on Yuuri’s rosy skin. Yuuri hummed happily at the tender contact. He took a long drink from the glass Viktor had poured him before continuing.

“I want the world to know you’re mine, and that I’m yours. I know you’re scared, and I am too. But I want to be yours forever. I don’t want another night without feeling you, fully.” Yuuri swallowed his fear. “Will you bond with me? Will you be my Alpha?”

The question hung in the air between them. Yuuri’s heart was racing in his chest, throbbing in his ears. A long, slow exhale brought Yuuri back to center, his mate calm as a clear pool of water. Viktor had already decided. He had decided the moment Yuuri ran from the tavern.

“Okay.” Came the reply. Yuuri’s heart stuttered. “I think I’m ready too, but on one condition.” Viktor held up a single, slender finger.

“And what would that be, love?” Yuuri breathed, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Marry me.” Viktor said. He didn’t ask, it wasn’t quite a proposal. He said it instead.

“Is this your proposal, Vitya?” Yuuri smiled, a laugh coloring his voice but not quite falling off his lips. “I have to say it’s not the most romantic thing in the world.”

“Will you say yes?” Viktor took Yuuri’s right hand and he felt the shaking, the excited thrum of Yuuri’s pulse beneath his skin. “I’ll try again for a more romantic one. But I need to know that you will.”

Yuuri smiled, full and unbridled. 

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just one more chapter and an epilogue... can't believe we're almost done. 
> 
> <3 ia
> 
> next week: a happy ending


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies are made and Yuuri's heat arrives again.

When apologies had been rendered and friendships were tentatively amended, the  _ Stammi _ shoved off with a few new crewmates aboard. 

Yuuri had several visitors after the worst of it had subsided— Vicchan, of course, was a constant comfort, napping at Yuuri's side and happily eating off his plate. Phichit too, joined Yuuri at his bedside, serving him the same medicinal tea he had given Viktor. 

Viktor was more than content to watch the two interact, the unique bond between omegas was rare, and something to be treasured. Christophe agreed, quite happy to observe without interrupting. 

Yuri maintained his distance like he always had, only gracing the great cabin when something was worth Viktor's attention. Their conversation had been brief and biting, but had ended without bloodshed, which was a win, all things considered. Yuri rendered a stifled apology to Yuuri after he was challenged to a sparring match— Yuri won by a hair's breadth and, Viktor noted, more than likely sparked the apology. No egos were bruised, but Yuuri's rear certainly was, and Viktor happily tended to his mate's tender cheeks. 

A few weeks later, a familiar itch began to surge beneath Yuuri's skin, and it soon tugged at Viktor as well. And despite the fact that the pair had already spent a heat together, Yuuri still found himself biting his fingernails. They were going to bond. The lead-up to their first shared heat had been full of anxiety and repression, Yuuri pushing against the pull of his instinct, plagued by uncertainty and barriers. He was preparing for his first heat in a year, and with the knowledge that this would be the heat that they bonded, both of them were nervous and giddy as schoolchildren.

Viktor’s heart fluttered excitedly every time he met his mate's eye, catching the sounds of heavy breath against his skin and the pink flush on his chest and shoulders. He used any and every excuse to gush to anyone about his lovely mate; Chris (with raucous agreement from Yuri) banished him to their cabin until Viktor could behave himself. 

Yuuri was equal measures flustered by and proud of the attention, but he still silently thanked the first mate for that. Viktor couldn't keep his hands off his Yuuri, didn't want to keep his hands off his Yuuri. He made any excuse to touch his mate, plucking away a stray hair on his shoulder, smoothing a tiny wrinkle in his shirt, wiping away a streak of dirt on his cheek. Viktor gleefully took him to bed every night, thanking the gods that he didn't have to ignore the sinfully tempting smell of his mate’s slick any longer.

As his heat drew nearer, Yuuri stopped wanting to leave the cabin, preferring to bury himself in Viktor's clothing and begin constructing his nest. Viktor loved seeing his Yuuri so warm and lost in his instinct, a beautiful and natural change from his last heat, which at that point was no more than a distant nightmare. 

He found himself tucked away in the cabin most days too, content just to watch Yuuri move around the room looking for discarded laundry to weave into his nest. He even pulled the shirt off Viktor’s shoulders before quietly apologizing and kissing his mate sweetly on the cheek. He couldn’t possibly be upset, it was far too hot for a shirt anyway. 

Viktor adored the happy chirping noises Yuuri made as he went, and Viktor checked in every now and then to check on his progress. Viktor, who had a better handle on his pre-rut tendencies, made a show of praising Yuuri, crooning at the sturdy construction and strategic placement of his favorite articles of clothing. He offered to scent anything that Yuuri requested, and found himself falling into the habit of just handing Yuuri his discarded clothing at the end of the day.

Eventually Yuuri had squirreled away all of their clothing, and both men resigned themselves to nakedness. Neither of them complained. The only unfortunate outcome was the damage done to Yuuri’s relationship with Cookie, who, with Yuuri’s refusal to leave the cabin, was now bringing the pair three meals a day and greeted by a mostly naked Captain. Cookie implored the Captain to at least reserve one pair of trousers. Yuuri was upset to pull them from his nest, but Viktor gently convinced him that it was absolutely necessary.

“You don’t want to share me, my body, with everyone who comes in, do you, love?” Yuuri recoiled at the thought and resigned to the loss. Cookie requested to hire another hand in the kitchen to replace him, with Yuuri’s absence stretching to almost two weeks. Yuuri absolutely reviled the idea, insisting that he enjoyed working in the galley, but would be glad for the help of another hand. Viktor elected not to pick this fight with his mate, and promised they would find someone to assist him when they ported again.

When Yuuri woke in a pool of slick, feverish and unable to push down the burning ache in his core, Viktor knew it was time to begin. He alerted his upper officers and the cook, leaving the Stammi Vicino in Christophe’s capable hands for the following three days. He coaxed his alpha to the front, allowing himself to be lost in mindless pleasure.

* * *

Yuuri melted into Viktor’s touch, purring quietly while they were locked together. Viktor loved the closeness- the entire length of Yuuri held tight against him. Both of their bodies were running hot, temperatures spiking with the increased pheromones. They were both wrung out, exhausted from nearly three days of grinding against and into each other. The sun was setting on their final day and they were beginning to emerge from the haze. They wanted to remember their bonding, as their instinct had dictated their every move for the past three days.

“Vitya, are you ready?” Yuuri stuttered, his voice weak and shaky.

“Yuuri, thank you for taking me for who I am, not who I was. Thank you for waiting for me. I’m ready now. Are you?” Viktor’s words brought tears to Yuuri's eyes.

“Yes.” he replied simply, catching his mate's lips in a kiss.

Viktor slipped out from between Yuuri’s cheeks, his knot deflated and his cock began hardening again, anticipation welling up in his chest. Yuuri fell onto his back, reaching up to his alpha as he adjusted, kneeling between Yuuri’s legs. Yuuri held his mate’s face in his hands, caressing his tired features. 

"You're beautiful." Viktor crooned, nosing at Yuuri's cheek.

A few swift pumps of his cock coaxed Viktor back to fullness, the delicious combined scent of his own come and Yuuri’s slick filled his nose. A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine as a deep, possessive growl reverberated through the air of the cabin; he shivered, a mixture of need and anticipation churning wildly in his stomach. 

He had no idea what to expect... but gods, was he ready.

Viktor sank in with no hesitation, innumerable loads of his come still keeping Yuuri wet and ready for him. The hard muscle of Viktor’s pelvis met Yuuri’s cheeks with a wet smack; the lewd slapping of skin tangled with guttural moans from both men, lost in their mutual pleasure. 

Viktor picked up his pace, panting through the exhaustion that had been looming over him the past few hours; his arms bracketed Yuuri’s head, and he watched as mahogany eyes rolled back. His gasps grew needier, more desperate and higher in pitch as Viktor glanced that spot inside him. 

Yuuri ran a hand through his mate’s silver hair, tangled and oily from their exploits of the past three days. He held a hot cheek in each hand as he moaned at Viktor’s assault on his prostate. Viktor’s eyes flew open as Yuuri purposefully clenched down on his slowly building knot, drawing a gasped moan from Viktor’s parted lips.

“Alpha, please… please, Vitya, make me yours.” Yuuri held Viktor’s heated gaze, using his hands to guide Viktor to the tender meeting of his neck and shoulder. His scent gland was throbbing, the skin hot and red— and Viktor’s was the same. 

As Yuuri craned his neck for his mate to have better access, a warm tear fell on his skin. “Are you okay, love? Are you sure you're ready?” Yuuri asked shakily, the alpha’s thrusts slowing to an easy roll of his hips.

“Yes, I’m ready… I’m just—” He blew out a shuddering breath, tears falling freely on Yuuri’s neck and pooling in the shallow dip of his collarbone. “Just so happy that we’re finally here. That you laid it all bare for me, and I did for you… that you're still here. You still love me.” He found Yuuri’s mouth and captured it in a kiss, heavy and wet. Yuuri realized he was crying too, coiling his arms around his mate’s neck. He pulled out of the kiss to meet Viktor’s eyes again, both the blue and brown wet with tears. “I love you so much, Yuuri, my sky and sea.”

“I love you too, Vitya. My sun and moon.”

Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s back, pulling him up into his lap and holding him close, curling into the embrace Yuuri was offering. Yuuri purred with the contact, Viktor crooning sweet words into his mate’s ear as he continued his slow rolling pace. The easy glide pulled reverent, drawn-out moans from both of them. 

Yuuri released his grip first, encouraging Viktor to do the same. Yuuri fell onto his back again, letting himself land on the mattress with a soft sigh and Viktor followed him, covering him completely. Yuuri turned his head to the left, exposing his scent gland to his mate. Viktor leaned down, gently kissing and licking at the skin there. 

“V-Vitya,” Yuuri whimpered, the sensation of it nearly too distracting for Yuuri to remember his task. “Vitya, I… please,” he begged, for what, he wasn’t sure. 

Viktor pulled away a scant inch from Yuuri’s skin, hot, panting breaths fell against his throat, but it was enough to clear his mind once again. 

“May I remove your collar?” Viktor asked in a reverent whisper, holding Yuuri’s cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb over the flushed swell. 

“Yes, please,” Yuuri whispered in reply, a gasping thing in his throat. Viktor’s hands shook as he reached for the mechanism at the back of Yuuri’s neck, unlatching it just how Yuuri had shown him. The moment that leather had been removed, a heady burst of scent filled the room, filling Viktor’s nose and mouth. Yuuri’s scent alone was enough to make him moan, and he buried his nose in Yuuri’s uncovered gland the moment he set the collar aside. 

“Gods, Yuuri…” Viktor moaned against him, rocking his hips slowly and trailing kisses along the column of his mate’s throat. “I’ve wanted to smell you for so long, to taste you.”

Yuuri coiled himself tightly around his mate, a whined moan bubbling out of his chest as he found that spot along the column of Viktor’s neck, opposite the side still bearing a scar. Viktor’s scent was thick there, the cedar and wintergreen was deliciously complimented by Yuuri’s own sweet scent. He didn’t fight the urge to lick at Viktor’s scent gland as well, encouraged by the ministrations of Viktor’s tongue.

“Yuuri…” Viktor moaned low against his throat. “I’m close. Are you?”

“So c-close, Vitya…” Yuuri gasped, his cry a tight, constricted thing in his chest.

“Okay, love. On three.”

Yuuri didn’t remember the sound of Viktor’s counting. Any and all of it was washed away the moment that two pairs of lips met hot skin, glands pulsing against the attention. Teeth grazed flesh, tongues flicking to find the perfect spot. Viktor bit down first, waiting for Yuuri to follow before breaking the skin. Yuuri gasped, whimpering at the pain, but something deeper than the pain drove his omega forward. He set his teeth around the swollen gland in Viktor’s skin and his jaw snapped shut. 

The coppery taste of blood filled their mouths as Viktor shuddered through his orgasm, knot swelling, panting hard against Yuuri’s neck with his flesh between his teeth. Yuuri came then too, screaming in his throat at the surge of pheromones coursing through his veins as his cock emptied between their bodies.

Yuuri didn’t know what he had been expecting. But it most certainly wasn’t this. Every book he had ever read, and everything the betas at the heathouses had told him didn’t prepare him at all. 

‘An explosion of new and foreign emotions’ was the best he could remember at that exact moment, but this was not at all what they had told him. Slowly, sweetly, warmth flowed into his mind like honey. Every frayed nerve, every fear and anxiety was being softened, soothed from the inside, like they were being doused by warm water. It was as though the very essence of his mate’s doting nature had crawled into the darkest corners of Yuuri’s mind and was dispelling the fear, the anxiety himself. He could breathe again, no longer afraid of the next moment.

The frantic, rushed flurry of emotion that Viktor had expected didn't come. The hurried panic that had accompanied his first bond couldn’t have been more opposite the warmth, the quiet peace of this moment. Everything was right. Everything was soft; everything clean and fresh. Bare and warm.

It was that night during their first shared heat, after Cao Bin attempted his pitiable insurrection, when Yuuri comforted him at his lowest. Yuuri somehow knew, and his mere presence pulled him back. It was that moment, the omega curled up in his lap, sharing his warmth when he didn’t know what else to do. Viktor had finally allowed Yuuri in, finally dropped his guard… and Yuuri was still there, still waiting for him.

They were finally one. It was as if the dam that they had spent a year chipping away at finally broke, and everything once repressed and held back was flooding every corner of their minds. Everything was now  _ theirs _ , no longer burdens carried by one and not the other. Everything snapped into a more vibrant hue, the blue of Viktor’s eyes, the true depth and warmth of Yuuri’s infinitely deeper.

Viktor was heavy and warm on Yuuri's tongue, his cedar musk rich around the new marks on his neck. A long sigh of satisfaction fell from Viktor’s lips as he finally released his mate's skin. His eyes fluttered open, silver eyelashes heavy with tears. Yuuri was still splayed out on his back, looking sinfully wrecked. His mahogany eyes were messy with tears, lips red and smeared with Viktor, cheeks flushed his favorite shade of pink. The new mark over his pulse point… Viktor’s alpha crooned at the sight of his mate, claimed as his in such a visible way. 

Everything about Yuuri was beautiful, delicious, even his blood. He ran his tongue over the wound as his instincts took over, an unbidden moan rumbling in his chest. Yuuri mimicked the action, tracing the indent his teeth had left with a soft tongue, lapping up the crimson liquid as it ran down the long column of his mate’s throat.

Viktor, though quite opposed to moving from Yuuri’s embrace, remembered that their new marks required cleaning and dressing, but that would require him to persuade Yuuri to let him leave the nest. His Yuuri, his love, his life. His bonded mate.

“Love, we have to clean these up,” he whispered into his mate's right ear, pulling the soft flesh of the lobe into his mouth and sucking gently. “I need to fetch some things from the privy.”

“I'll be waiting for you.” Yuuri was emerging too, purring under Viktor's care. Viktor leaned into a quick kiss before climbing out of bed, his knot by now deflated enough to part from Yuuri’s warmth. His legs were aching, thighs shaking with the activities of the past few days. He felt Yuuri’s satisfaction clearly through their new bond, something deeply satisfying settled in his chest at hearing his omega purr as he walked away.

_ “Don’t forget a washcloth, Vitya.” _ Yuuri’s voice floated into Viktor’s ear as he plucked the proper supplies off the shelf.  _ “I enjoy how you taste as much as you enjoy me, but I won’t have you licking it up until I lose consciousness.” _ Viktor chuckled as he wet a cloth in the pitcher.  _ “You aren’t a vampire.” _

_ “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t dream of it.”  _ Viktor answered gently,  _ “Though, it’s hardly my fault that you’re so damned delicious.” _ The two laughed quietly, the sound of his mate's laugh a soft, chiming bell in Viktor's ear.

He stepped out of the privy to see his lovely Yuuri, his mate, perched at the edge of the bed, gently running his tortoiseshell comb through his unruly raven hair, which was tangled from neglect. Viktor felt the sharp, pulling pain tingling at his own scalp as Yuuri fussed at a particularly nasty knot.

_ “Please, allow me?” _ Viktor asked with an extended hand. Yuuri furrowed his brow for a moment, but surrendered the comb and turned his back to Viktor, who pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. Viktor set about his work, softly untangling the mess at the back of his mate’s neck; Yuuri melted into the contact, purring loudly as his mate’s hands worked his hair back into order. Viktor pulled the thick curtain of hair into a pile on top of Yuuri’s head, keeping it away from the fresh mark on his neck.

_ “Thank you, Vitya.” _

“ _ Anything for you, my love.” _ Viktor leaned down for a kiss, soft and chaste.  _ “Now. Turn around for me?”  _

“Did you just say something?” Yuuri asked, the confusion clear on his features as well as in his scent. 

_ “Yes, I asked you to turn around so I can clean your bite...  _ oh.” Viktor understood then. His jaw popped uncomfortably as he spoke the single syllable. It had been awhile since he had actually opened his mouth to speak. He and Yuuri had been speaking entirely through their bond.

“How did you do that?” Yuuri asked, fear slowly easing into curiosity.

“You mean, how did  _ we  _ do that, love. You were doing it too.” Yuuri’s eyes blew wide at the revelation, pupils darting across the room as if he were searching a page of a book for answers.

“I was?” His voice was barely above a whisper as Viktor nodded slowly, a heart-shaped smile splitting his mouth open like the sky after a thunderstorm. “Wow.”

_ “Almost like magic, isn’t it, love?” _ Viktor’s soothing timbre filled Yuuri’s ears as his lips remained still. Yuuri smiled, feeling Viktor’s own happiness and pride through the connection they now shared.

“It’s amazing, Vitya,” Yuuri purred, pulling his mate into a kiss. He could feel the warmth of Viktor’s love in his chest and he never wanted to let it go. But the sweat drying at the nape of his neck and the mess between his thighs needed attention. 

The two tended to each other’s bites, gently wiping away dried blood to reveal the marks they had given the other. Yuuri moaned low and luxuriously, panting as he was pulled toward orgasm by Viktor massaging a calming salve into his inflamed skin. Viktor could feel the rush of arousal coursing through his mate; he knew he would soon be addicted to the sensation, of knowing exactly what he was doing to him, and being able to communicate the same to his mate without words getting in the way. 

“You’re enjoying this,” Viktor whispered, feeling his own arousal pooling in his core. “Oh,  _ darling, _ ” he moaned as a shuddering wave of pleasure rolled through both of them. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri purred, his eyes shut, his chin tipped up to the ceiling. “Don’t you  _ dare _ stop,” he warned, and Viktor smirked at the challenge. “Touch me.”

Viktor’s hand found Yuuri’s leaking cock between his legs, still somehow hard and proud after their nearly non-stop rounds of heat together. With long fingers pressing against his scent gland and a firm hand wrapped around his cock, it wasn’t long before Yuuri was completely undone one last time. He came with a whimper of Viktor’s name, his legs shaking. 

“You now,” Yuuri mumbled, falling onto his stomach and pulling Viktor’s cock into his mouth. The heft of it, as always, was too big to fit, but Viktor couldn’t possibly complain. Yuuri stroked what couldn’t fit in his mouth and Viktor was tipping over the edge within moments. 

Yuuri smiled sheepishly when he pulled off. His cheeks were flushed that wonderful shade of pink again, and Viktor pulled him into a kiss. Neither of them was sure how long they had been lying in bed kissing, sharing the quiet bliss of each other’s touch. But by the time the sun began to drop below the horizon, and their new marks had been tended, Yuuri sat up slowly. 

“Would you care to join me on the rear deck?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the top drawer of Viktor’s bureau. He could feel Viktor’s heart flipping in his chest at the reminder. “I’d like to watch the sunset with you.”

The pair settled on the soft pile of cushions as the sky began to fade into pastel purple and pink hues, a brilliant blue spanning the sky behind them to the east, billowing clouds ringed with gold as the sun fell closer to the watery horizon. Yuuri curled himself into the warmth of his mate, tucking his head underneath Viktor's scruffy chin.

“Darling, you need to shave.” Yuuri teased, lightly tickling the sensitive skin under his jaw. Viktor snorted a laugh and batted the offending fingertips away.

“Have some grace for your mate, love. It's been three days I’ve spent tangled up with you and away from the shaving mirror…” Viktor teased in reply, nosing at Yuuri’s cheek playfully. “Maybe I ought to teach you how. Then you can take care of it for me, love.” Viktor leaned down for a kiss and reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the soft velvet sachet. 

Yuuri purred into the touch, cheeks still warm from the waning vestiges of his heat. He felt Viktor shifting beneath him and something joyful, something sweet lingered in their bond. Suddenly Yuuri was alone on the cushions, Viktor was on one knee in front of him; the solid gold band held between his thumb and forefinger gleamed in the darkening magenta and blue of the sunset.

“Yuuri, my life, my love. My sky and sea. You are so much to me. My beacon in an endless sea of night. Thank you for everything.” He choked back a sob. “My Yuura, my mate, and gods-willing, my husband. Our path has never been that of the stereotypical, we’ve overcome so much together.” A soft sniff interrupted him, bright tears pearling in the corners of Viktor’s eyes. “I cannot wait to explore beyond that horizon line with you. Please, my darling. My love. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.” Yuuri whispered in reply, extending his right hand. Viktor took his mate’s hand gently, sliding the warm metal of the ring onto his finger. Their lips met in a frenzied kiss, teeth clacking in a particularly unromantic way. Soft laughter rang through the air they shared, before Yuuri pulled back, one hand extended. “My turn.” he said quietly, as Viktor dropped the other ring into his palm.

“Vitya, you’re my north star. My guiding light. You met me right where I was. You’ve set my heart on fire.” Yuuri’s voice shook with the weight of his love, his heart full and warm in his chest. “I love you so much, my Vitya. My mate. My life and my love. Will you have me as your husband?” He felt tears sliding down his cheeks as he felt Viktor’s heart echoing the same across their new bond.

“Yuuri, there is no greater honor I can imagine than to spend the rest of my life with you.” Viktor placed his right hand in Yuuri’s, splaying his fingers just enough for Yuuri to slide the gold ring onto his finger. Viktor lifted his hand to cup Yuuri’s round cheek, pink and wet with tears. Two sets of lips curled around the other, laughing mouths pulled back into breathless smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just an epilogue to go, my loves. 
> 
> <3 ia

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, friend. 
> 
> want to read ahead? click the twitter link and read my pinned tweet to learn how to read the next chapter now!
> 
> <3 ia  
>  [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


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